Sotally Tober

The Masked Maverick's Day Off (a short story)

2012-01-28T02:40:00.000-05:00

Written as an entry in the NeoGAF Creative Writing Challenge #89.

Marvin McCaul surveyed the room carefully – taking in allthe faces, any possible escape routes – but eventually his eyes returned to thewoman at the bar. Redhead. Short black dress. Long legs. What fine specimen, hethought. Tonight I am not Marvin McCaul, or the Masked Maverick. Tonight I amHenry, Henry Hartz, looking to sell his family business to some investors. He glimpsedat his watch and figured it was time to make his move. He got up from his seatin the corner and placed himself beside the redhead at the bar.

“Bartender, I’ll have what the lady is having and anotherfor her.

“Name’s Henry. Henry Hartz. Who might you be, and what areyou doing here on a night like this?”

“Danielle Dupuis, and I happen to be waiting for a date whonever showed up. Might I say, you sure don’t look local, Henry. So tell me,what brings you to town?”

“I’m a butcher and I’ve arrived in town to sell my family’s business to – ”

“Okay, timeout Marv. Stick to the script. How would a butcherbe sexy anyway?” The façade of Danielle Dupuis disappeared, replaced byStephanie Sullivan, Marvin’s girlfriend of three years.

“Alright – Like I said, I’m a professional treasure hunter and I’m in town –timeout – just next time, let me write the script okay?

“ – and I’m in town in search for the legendary artifact known as the Urn ofSolidarity – timeout – couldn’t you have come up with anything better, Steph?”

“Just stay on script – Why, I happen to work for the local museum and we arepreparing for the upcoming exhibit on the owner of the Urn, King Alexandros. Infact, I am the lead curator on the exhibit and I’m very interested in anyinformation you may have on the location of the Urn.”

“Why … why yes, would you want to come back to my … abode (really, abode?) andlook over my findings, maybe over a drink or two?”

“Why yes, Mr. Hartz, I would love to take you up on your offer.”

Looks like our game of seduction ‘worked’ after all, thoughtMarvin, as he escorted Stephanie back to his car.

In the car, Stephanie was becoming irritated, “C’mon Marv,can’t you drive a bit faster?”

“Marv again? Wasn’t this whole role-play thing your idea, ‘Danielle’?”

“Well, I know one way to make this ride back exciting,” shesaid as she flashed a smile and reached for Marvin’s belt.

“Whoa whoa whoa! Hey! Can we not do this in the car Steph!Not that I don’t appreciate it or nothing, but I kinda need to pay someattention to the road here. You know how I get when you do that. And whathappens when we get to a stop sign or a red light?”

“Fine, no sexy time in the car. Killjoy!”

“It’ll be worth the wait. I have a bottle of ’89 Express athome that I bought for tonight. We can have fun after I park the car, alright?”

“Come to think of it, when they do this in TV or in movies,they immediately cut to them opening the door all hot and heavy. I wonder whathappens on their way home. Because it probably isn’t anything like this.”

“Then I don’t know why we didn’t just rent a hotel room –right, the script. You’re just lucky the traffic isn’t too bad tonight.”

***

As Marvin turned the lock on the front door, he paused andturned towards Stephanie. She gave him a confused look.

“So … no hot and heavy coming in through the door?”

“Oh no, we’re back to roleplaying.”

“Then what was that back in the car?”

“Well, forgive me for trying to have a bit of fun on the way back. Besides,it’s not like I wrote a conversation about lost treasures for the way home.”

“Well then … Danielle,” as Marvin slipped back intocharacter, “welcome to my abode. I am sure my findings may be of some help toyou and your exhibit.”

Marvin seated Stephanie on the couch and continued his HenryHartz charade, “So, I’ll be just a moment as I go get some drinks and myresearch on the Urn and – ah crap, I left the ’89 Express somewhere in thebasement. I’ll be right back.”

After a few minutes, Stephanie began coming down the stepsof the basement, “I’m coming down Marv. Just because it’s called a wine cellardoesn’t mean you can just leave wine in your basement.”

Stephanie entered the basement only to find Marvin rootingaround the basement and becoming frustrated. As she looked around she noticed abookcase that looked out of place and began examining the books on the shelfwhen one title caught her eye.

“Hey, you have the first edition of ‘All my Roses’? I didn’tknow you read that,” as she reached to remove the book from the shelf.

The bookshelf began to shake and then moved off to the sideto reveal a secret passageway.

“Holy crap.”

“What happened? Did you break something?” replied Marvin.

“Marvin … what’s down there?” as she pointed towards the newset of stairs that appeared.

“Ah crap. Well, I’ve been meaning to get that fixed (andthat bookcase kind of gives it away too). Fine! I guess now is better time asany! Follow me for the tour, Steph,” as he began heading down the secretpassageway.

As they exited the stairway, Stephanie realized they hadentered into a large underground cavern littered with large computer screensand costumes. She stepped forward towards one of the display cases with aMasked Maverick costume and quickly examined it.

“Holy crap. Are you…”

“Yeah, you can say it.”

“Holy crap, are you one of the Masked Maverick’s sidekicks!? Is this his secretbase!? Did you just bring me back to his secret base to have sexy time in!?”

“Oh, c’mon Steph!”

“What!?”

“I am the Masked Maverick.”

Stephanie blurted out a laugh in response.

“Oh my god,” as she fought back the laughter, “seriously? Ohmy gosh. Really? I wouldn’t have pegged you as superhero material.”

“That’s kind of the point. It wouldn’t be much of a secretidentity if it was obvious enough to anyone that could put two and twotogether. Anyway, I guess I should give you the tour now that you’re in on mysecret.

“Alright, so here is the main supercomputer. Large screensand everything; picks up police frequencies too. Even goes to my suit radio. Iusually use it to analyze lots of things – blood samples, computer code, Morsecode, translation – whatever you can think of, this computer can take whateveryou throw at it. Not riddles though, I have figure those out myself on my ownbecause Tech Trickster won’t help me upgrade the OS.

“And here are some of my older costume designs. Took a whilefor me to figure not have bright orange on a costume. Just makes you too easyto spot, day or night. Unless we get stuck in the DayGlo dimension, but weusually don’t get much advance notice when that happens.

“Here is my first costume. Put it together all by myself;also taught myself how to use a sewing machine at the same time.”

“Looks pretty beat up.”

“Yeah, the guy I was up against was pretty big. Threw me into a couple ofskyscrapers and construction sites.

“After that I started using some better material thanspandex because let me tell you, after you get put through a building or asphalta few times, it just tears too easily. And I just don’t have the time to stitchit back together.”

“Hey! Marv! When are you going to feed me?! I’m gettinghungry!” a voice boomed from the dark corner of the cavern.

“What was that Marv?” gasped Stephanie

“Now for the final part of the tour. Can you … keep a secret? No one, and Imean no one can no about this. If they did, it could ruin me.”

“What could be so bad?”

“I sorta have a … prisoner. Let me explain, though!” as Marvin flicked a lightswitch to illuminate the dark corner containing a man in a rather large cage.

“Oh don’t worry, he’smostly just hungry. He’s pretty much given up wanting to escape anyway, right Clark?

“Steph, this is Clark. Clark Clarkson, meetStephanie Sullivan. Stephanie, Clark.

“Clark here was my bullythroughout grade and high school. Weren’t you Clarky boy?”

“Let me out Marv! I’ll take you even WITH your superpowers!”

“So fussy today. Now Clark, mind your temperaround Stephanie here, unless you want to get stuck watching only realitytelevision for a week. Don’t worry, he’s just hungry. I guess I forgot to feedhim dinner before I left for the bar.

“To be fair, at least he gets three meals a day – not like beforeI brought him here. And there’s really no one looking for him or anything, orcare to.

“That and he used to give me noogies every day, wedgies everyother day, and a swirly every Wednesday.”

“Is that why you have that bald spot over there?”

“Yeah, he’s a real piece of work. Anyway, I bumped into him a while back and Iasked if he felt sorry about bullying me just laughed in my face, so … here heis.

“And that concludes our tour. Now, if you would follow meinto the elevator, it leads out to behind the fireplace. Yes, I just had to geta rotating fireplace, if you’re wondering.”

“Wow, that was a lot to take in,” said Stephanie as sheexited the elevator.

“So I guess sexy time is off for tonight?”

“I have to ask – how long have you been the Masked Maverick, Marv?”

“I think maybe two years before we met. And I hope Clarkthere didn’t scare you.”

“Oh no, he definitely should be in that cage there for giving you that baldspot.”

“The cage is pretty roomy and he gets all the channels too.”

“I think,” as she pushed Marvin back onto the couch, “sexy time never left. Imean, I just found out my boyfriend is a bona-fide superhero. Who wouldn’t findthat completely sexy?”

“Well, there was that one girl before you that… funny story for another time.”

“Then I think we should take this to the bedro– ”, as alarge ring from the phone in the room interrupted Stephanie.

“Sorry, I have to take this.”

Stephanie let out a sigh and rolled her eyes.

“Will you accept a collect call from: …”

“Great Gentleman.”

“Yes.

"What is it Grant? I told you not to call unless it wasan emergency. My day off, remember? Uh huh. What? Seriously? Alright, slowdown. Another extinction-level event? Didn’t we just have one last week? Youowe me, you know, right? I’ll be there in ten.”

“Who was that Marv?”

“Oh, just the Great Gentleman.”

“Is there something wrong?”

“The new guy didn’t do so well. Everyone thought he could handle it himself. Someguy named ‘Green Guardian’. They put him against the Amber Aggressor. Figuredhe thought we were joking when we told him to believe in himself and everything… he’s okay, though. Doctor Duality will have to grow his limbs back (if he canever stop arguing with himself).”

“Sounds serious. Should I be worried?”

“They tell me it’s an extinction-level event, so sorryhoney, but I guess we have to cancel sexy time tonight. Don’t wait up. Orworry, really. You might be able to catch me on the news. I should be back inthe morning though. I’ll pick us up and get pancakes or something.

“Oh, and it Clark keepswailing, just tell him you’ll delete his daytime talk shows off the DVR. Thatusually shuts him up. I gotta get suited up.”

After Happily Ever After (a short story)

2011-12-15T02:42:00.002-05:00

Written as an entry for the NeoGAF Creative Writing Challenge, #86

John opened his eyes and stared up at the cabin roof deep inthought. The smell of sex had drifted away during the night. He heard thewhistle of the wind outside. Must be a draft somewhere, he thought. He laystill, only turning his head to stare at Jane, still asleep. He dared notdisturb her slumber.

She looked sobeautiful while asleep.

We were gone for solong but the only evidence of that are our clothes that look way worse for wearthan they should.

I think I need to takea piss.

John lay in silence, trying to piece together what happened theother night - that Friday evening to be exact. There was a light – no, before that. I wanted to sit by the lake, takeit all in, maybe it’d help me. That’s where I met Jane. What a coincidence, shejust happened to be walking by and we’d gotten to talking. Then that light. Whythe hell did we walk through … no it swallowed us up, right? It was so longago, but it was just the other day … at the same time.

He thought about the months he and Jane spent elsewhere, yetfor all intents and purposes, the calendar only moved two days. Sunday morning. Sun. The sun is going to beup soon. I guess we really didn’t have any time to talk after being broughtback; we were too busy being all over one another. Neither John nor Janeunderstood where they went and why they needed their help. Why him, a greetingcard writer? Why her, an employee at a call centre? Weren’t there people more …qualified to help?

The sun hit Jane’s face and it woke her up instantly. Sheturned and smiled to John. I don’t thinkI could ever explain all of this to anyone else. All the memories of herand John came flooding back. She wasn’t sure if they’d even be able to come back.After the first couple of months in that elsewhere, they knew each other betterthan they knew themselves.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

“No, the sun always wakes me up like that,” she yawned out,“if you kept the curtains closed I could’ve dozed the entire day.”

“Quick bathroom run,” John got up and headed for thewashroom, “you just stay there and relax.”

Relax? So much forthat relaxing weekend I was looking forward to. I really don’t want to head back to work tomorrow. After all that, Ihave to head back to a boring, dead-end job? Sometimes I wish we could’vestayed. What were we talking about just before we started our crazy adventure?Right, John was telling me about how he wanted to just get away, hopefully someinspiration from nature to help his writing. Me? I was just walking by looking fora quiet place to sit under the stars. City life can be so suffocatingsometimes. You can’t really see the stars in the city.

John came back and crawled into bed. “I really didn’t haveany plans for the weekend, plus it’s pretty early. When was the last time weeven had a good night’s rest? The number of times we had someone stand guardfor us was way too many.” said John.

“Well, I know the number of times we slept under a roof Ican count on one hand.” replied Jane.

“I don’t want to go back to work tomorrow, but I have toleave early to prepare for a meeting Monday.”

“How could you back to work after all that?” Jane waslooking for an answer but all John could do was shrug his shoulders.

During their adventure, they both realized they lived in thesame city, not too far from each other. The thought didn’t cross any of theirminds until now.

“Hey, I don’t want to leave either, but I need to preparefor my meeting tomorrow, so I have to start heading back to the city. How aboutlunch Wednesday… say at Coleraine’s?”

“Sure, Wednesday,” replied Jane, “but … you remember thatfair that passed through … I don’t know how long ago – it got me thinking,there is a state fair next week. We never got the chance to go to one, howabout that?”

“Yeah, I like it. I figure it’ll be tamer than what we gotused to.” John gave her a quick kiss then started collecting his clothes offthe floor.

After watching John get dressed, Jane lay back in bedthinking of all the things they had gone through. All those months in two days … that’s going to be tough to explain.Just last night – that, I need to still process. We did so much over there … howcan I just go back to my daily routine like that? Jane couldn’t get thelast thought out of her mind. I could doso much more.

===

“Here you go sir, ma’am … enjoy your meal.” said thewaitress.

“Sir? Ma’am? Kind of fancy, isn’t it?” Jane quipped.

“Beats whatever they called us over there.” replied John.

“So, how did Robbie take it?” asked John.

“Shit,” Jane replied, “I haven’t gotten the chance to speakto him. Damnit, John I’m so sorry but—“

“Yeah, it might sort of hard to explain how you have to dumphim over some guy you met over the weekend. But is two weeks really goingsteady? Just curious.” asked John.

“I promise I’ll deal with it. So, how about a movie tonightor something at my place? It isn’t someone singing at an inn or a campfire talebut I sure missed being able the watch movies.”

“Sorry Jane, they’ve got me working pretty hard this week. But I am still upfor that fair on Saturday.”

After lunch, they both went their respective ways back towork but both felt uneasy about earlier. Over there, everything was simple.Sometimes dangerous but simple, easy. They could tell each other anything -maybe because their lives depended on it, or maybe because they might not seeeach other again. But now?

John suddenly felt a surge of regret. Why couldn’t I tell her? I hope she believed me; I really am busy.Promotion to head writer is a big deal, why couldn’t I mention it? We’ve beenthrough thick and thin for all that time, isn’t that enough? Why couldn’t shejust tell Robbie that it was over? So simple, no explanation needed, just “I’mnot feeling it” or something, right?

Jane’s thoughts raced while at work. She kept scribbling ona pad on what to say to Robbie. Sure,it’s only been two weeks with him. We aren’t even that serious. Hell, I almostforgot all about him. How come I can’t just let him down easy? John, John, John… are you really busy? We were practically joined at the hip over there but nowall he can tell me is that he’s really busy? Is he trying to avoid me? No, thatdoesn’t make sense … ugh. ‘Robbie, I don’t want to lead you on but –’, no thatsounds stupid.

===

Jane caught John waving in the distance by the fair gates.

“I have your ticket right here!” John yelled, waving a pairof tickets. Jane raced towards him.

“I told him the other day – Robbie,” Jane said, “and to befair, he was kinda a douche about it.”

“I guess sooner rather than later right?” Jane giggled inresponse to John’s question.

There it was, thatfamiliar feeling, they both thought.

“C’mon, I’ve been meaning to show you my mean throwing arm.”John pointed at the fair games.

“You know, last time I checked, I was the one who tossed therock at the guy behind you just in time.” wagging her finger at John.

“You’re never going to let that go, are you?” John smiled.

“What was his name again?”

“The Black Rider.” John replied, and then all of a sudden Jane burst intolaughter.

“He was already unhappy to see us but when we startedlaughing at him being a cliché…”

“I don’t think they had clichés over there.” said John,failing to suppress his laughter.

For the whole day, both John and Jane were focused on tryingto say something important. They kept reciting it in their heads, trying not tobetray their thoughts to one another. John wanted so much to tell her about hispromotion. Jane had wanted so much to say something about how she wanted toquit her job and pursue something better.

By sunset, both John and Jane were covered head to toecarrying souvenirs from the day’s events.

“You know, I hope we didn’t win too much stuff. I don’t wantto get pulled over by the cops because I have too much stuff blocking my view.”said Jane.

“On that subject,” John chuckled, “how was it coming back todriving? I was terrible after coming back. I was about to go look for thenearest stable or rent a carriage.” Jane chuckled in return.

Finally, Jane broke her unspoken silence. “Look, I havesomething important I need to say.” John immediately turned to attention.

“I’ve been thinking a lot after we got back,” Janecontinued, “that I can do better than this dead-end job I’m in. I want to quit.Hell, you should quit too, we could go--” John immediately stopped her.

“Stop right … stop right there. Listen, I know you don’tthink much about my job but that is just insulting,” his confusion quicklyturning into anger, “because I was meaning to tell you they promoted me to headwriter earlier this week. Yes, I still write silly greeting cards but this is apromotion and a pay raise and I like what I do.”

For a minute it was silent as the both of them let theirconversation-turned-argument sink in. It wasn’t their first argument but thistime there wasn’t anything at risk but their relationship.

Again, it was Jane who broke the silence. “Look … maybe Iwas a bit too … rash with calling your job dead-end--”

“Yes, I like my job very much Jane. They don’t just takeanyone who dicks around all day to be head writer.”

“Alright then, truce? Can we just drop it? I mean,” shesighed before continuing, “we’ve been through way worse. Like, we-could-actually-dieworse. You know, like the time with that big dude?”

“Okay, the guide told him not to call him an oaf or mention how ugly he was. Orlaugh at his voice.” John began to light up, trying to suppress a smile, as ifthis moment should be too serious for one.

Jane tried to lighten the mood, “Didn’t know you wererelated then.”

“Fine,” John surrendered, “truce. I guess we both overreacted. Listen, not tosay what we did wasn’t amazing because …” John paused to gather his thoughts.

“Okay, you remember, I told you this a while back. I hadwriter’s block. I couldn’t come up with anything for even a stupid birthdaycard. But then the entire time we were there – everything we saw – when we cameback, it was just … I could write again.”

“Since we’re being honest,” continued Jane, “I didn’t feellike I had any purpose in life but that adventure showed me – as corny as itsounds – I can be so much more. I can do much better than working at a stupidcall-centre, bothering people during dinner.”

Again, it was silent for a moment. Then John broke thesilence.

“So, how about a movie at my place? And then after we canfigure out what you want to do and maybe how to make a dramatic exit at yourjob?”

“Sure, what did you have in mind?”

Witness Protection (a short story)

2011-10-23T23:41:00.001-05:00

Written as an entry for the NeoGAF Creative Writing Challenge, #85.

“George,how much longer do I have to put up with this? Low profile, it’s not really mycup of tea.”

“Listen,we’re doing this to be safe. Just a while longer.”

“How muchlonger?”

“Untilthose dangerous people decide to give up looking for you.”

“Can’t comesoon enough.”

I picked atmy meal for most of the evening. I was surprised George could cook, or eveninvited me over. The last couple of times we just met at a coffee shop for ourcheckups. I wasn’t sure how this whole thing worked. Couldn’t have much of anormal life while keeping my head down.

“C’monGeorge, it’s been almost a year. You think if they knew where I was, they’dhave come for me already.”

“Iunderstand. Just a precaution. You know how my bosses can be. After that, youshould be in the all-clear.”

“So is thiswhy I’m over here tonight?”

“Figuredyou get one last good look at my ugly mug before I go. I still have to finishsome paperwork, but to be honest, you seem to be in the all-clear.”

“Good, theweekend was just coming up. Figured I could …”

“Yeah, havefun for a change.” George let out a hearty laugh that I hardly expected. Thisgovernment agent had always seemed so reserved every other time we met.

“Looks likeI won’t be seeing you again, will I, George?”

“Sure hopeit doesn’t come to that. You still have my number, just in case right?”

“Yeah.”

“Enjoy yourstart of your new life Clement … or should I say Clark Debont?”

I gave hima handshake and said goodbye to George as I hopped into my car and headed forhome.

On the wayback, I thought back to the last year and a half. It wasn’t even a few monthsbefore everything went to hell in my life. Maybe I shouldn’t have decided tolook for my birth parents. My birth mother had died years ago, survived only byher husband and my half-sister. The reunion wasn’t what I was expecting. Justsuspicion that I was after my mother’s stuff after she’d passed away. I toldthem I didn’t want anything but they kept harassing me. Family, right?

Then therewas that night me and Lindsay were out. Seemed like ages ago. Been only what,about sixteen months ago? She got flat out drunk – nothing new for our nightsout – but she happened to stumble away into an alley that night. Guess thatsame night, a Vincent Palatzo decided he wanted to personally make an exampleout of someone and made us witnesses to the incident. Such the upstandingcitizen I was, I called the police and got stuck in the middle of it when theytold me that I had I.D.’d a top lieutenant of the mob and the Don’s cousin.

I trustedthe police. At least they kept me anonymous from the press but the mob wasanother matter. They knew everything about me. Next thing I know, myhalf-sister and her father turned up dead. I wish I could’ve been more brokenup about it, or maybe it was the shock. But I hadn’t known them long enough,never mind the bitterness between us. Guess the mob didn’t care. Lindsaydropped everything and moved back home after told her I wasn’t going to beintimidated. I don’t blame her for being scared, nor could I. Probably won’tever see her again. Then there was my relocation after the trial. I felt goodknowing it was me that got him sentenced for execution but in retrospect, maybeI should’ve just kept my mouth shut and forgotten that night. Fortunately I hadno one but myself in the crosshairs this time. Everyone I cared about was gone.It was all me, wandering alone in a new city.

=================================================

“Hey holdthe door!”

I couldhear Mike running frantically for the elevator.

“Hey thanksClark.”

“Noproblem, Mike.”

“So …Tuesday … long week, huh?”

“Sure,” aswe step out of the elevator, “so … you and Al still go out for drinks afterwork?”

“Well,well. What’s this Clark? Decided to finallycome out of your shell? What happen last night? You get laid?”

“No, but Iplan to this weekend.”

“From whatI can tell, it might take you a while. I get the impression you might be out ofpractice.”

“I’ll befine. This weekend okay?”

“Hey, whynot tonight?”

“Just gotsome things to square away”, I replied. He didn’t need to know anything morethan that.

As weturned the corner into the office, I noticed a new receptionist sitting at thefront desk.

“Who’sshe?”, I asked.

“Beats me …hey Freddie! What’s with the new receptionist?”

“Well, wefinally got a replacement ever since Trudy left, God bless her.”

“She seemedto have left in a hurry if I remember correctly”, I pointed out.

“Yeah,family emergency or maybe she won the lottery or something”, as Freddy beltedout a laugh, “least she’s a hottie this time”.

“I’m gonnago introduce myself”, I said.

“And here Ithought you were afraid of women, Clarke.”

“Fuck youtoo, Mike”, as I let off a smirk at him.

As Iapproached the desk, I got a good look at the receptionist. She seemed to lookfamiliar. I could’ve sworn I’ve seen her on the subway or at the park a whileago.

“Hey…”, Isaid, almost at a loss for words.

“Goodmorning”, she replied.

“Hi, myname is Clark, from accounting. I’m sure HR orwhoever already introduced you but I’d thought I’d say hi, and welcome. It waskinda hell missing a receptionist for half a week.”

Shegiggled, “Nice to meet you, I’m Andrea.”

“So, whereyou from?”

“Oh, notfrom anywhere important, I just moved into the city about a week ago. I guess Iwas lucky to find this job so soon.”

“Say, Idon’t happen to know you do I? You look familiar.”

“I guess Ijust have one of those faces.”

“Well, Iguess I’d better get to work. Guess I’ll see you around, Andrea.”

“Yeah, ofcourse.” She let off a smile.

=================================================

“So thereceptionist seems nice.”

“Yeah,she’s new in town too, Mike.”

“Well, thatmakes it easier than it sounds, I mean, it is unfair but what can you – “

I cut himoff, “Please Mike.”

“You’re nofun Clark, I thought you were going to becomea bloodhound for the ladies.”

“Thatdoesn’t even make any sense, Mike.”

=================================================

If you’rewondering, nothing really happened with me and Andrea – for a while anyway. I finallyfound the courage the next day to ask her out and she shot me down. Well, sheshot everyone down. Even Mike, but that was a given. Guess it would be awkwarddating someone from work.

I met withGeorge a couple of weeks later. He seemed much more reserved and nothing likethe man I had dinner with that Monday evening. At least I was “officially” freenow.

=================================================

As I walkedinto the office like any other day, I saw Andrea arguing with a delivery guy.It was getting a bit heated but as I approached them to see what was going on,it was over. The delivery guy bumped into me heading out.

“Watchwhere you’re going, bub.”

“Well, thatwasn’t very friendly”, as I approached Andrea’s desk, “what was that about?”

“Ohnothing. I guess he must be new or something. He lost a package that wassupposed to arrive today so I gave him hell for it.”

“My, my,sassy, aren’t we.”

“Well,thank you for being such a gentlemen and arriving to help me.”

Justbecause she said no didn’t mean we stopped flirting so often. It was usuallyone of the brighter parts of my day, sneaking in a few moments to talk withAndrea.

“Hey,listen Clark, I know you tried to ask me out afew months ago but …”

“Yeah, whatabout it?”

“Just thatI was kinda new in town so I really wanted to get my bearings before dating;that and work … so ...”

“Okay …”

“Well, I’masking you out Clark, you know, if you stillwant to …”

“Yeah,definitely”, I replied at the speed of light.

“How about… lunch on … Saturday, at Carolines? It’s by my apartment…”

“Oh yeah, Iknow that place. Lunch? Sure, I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Tomorrow!Wow, so soon!”

“Guess youmust be pretty excited already”, I replied, “to forget tomorrow was Saturday.”

She let outa giggle as I walked to my desk.

“Tomorrow,m’lady!”

=================================================

“Mmm, thatwas delicious! Here, let me get the bill.”

“Well, as agentlemen, I believe I should get it.”

“I did askyou out.”

“Touché.”

“Say, Clark, my apartment is …”, she handed the bill ourwaiter, “…nearby”, she whispered.

“Oh.”

“Wanna comeover for some drinks? Maybe chat a bit in … privacy?”

“Seemsunorthodox,” I chuckled, “but I like it. Sure, let’s go.”

=================================================

“Yourapartment seems pretty … empty for having lived here for a few months,” Iasked.

“Yeah, Iused to move around a lot - military family. You get used to it. Here.”

“Scotch?”

“Yeah, youcan hold your scotch, can’t you?”

“Guesswe’ll find out in a bit.”

“I’ll makesure to hold your hair back if it comes to that,” she grinned.

Everythingafter that I can’t seem to remember. I blacked out. When I came to, I wasn’t inAndrea’s apartment anymore.

=================================================

“Okay,well, he’s your problem now,” I overheard a voice. It sounded like Andrea

“Hehehe,this is gonna be fun,” said another voice. It was a man.

I couldn’tmove my arms or legs. I was chained down to a chair. I tried to move, but all Idid was rattle the chains. The two voices turned around.

“Well, he’sawake now.” It was Andrea, but with a different … demeanour. Not thatsemi-ditzy blonde that she was just earlier.

“I usuallywait until they’re awake anyway. I want them to take it all in,” the secondvoice said. He looked familiar … it was the delivery guy that bumped into methe other day!

“Oh, Clark, I see you two have met. His name is Hugo. Hugo,Clark.”

“What isgoing on!”, I yelled.

“He’syelling. I think we need a gag. Hugo…”

“Keep yourpanties on, I got it. No one can hear us here anyway.”

“I supposeyou were going to ask what is going on or whatever. A bit cliché, but I guessyou have the right to know,” Andrea was saying as she circled me.

“Mr.Palatzo hired me … well, the both of us. Hugo swore he saw you a few months agoat a park or something while doing work for the boss. Hugo here works for him …his boss hired me because of my … expertise.”

Andreabacked off and the continued, “see, the boss got the idea from me that we …play the long game with you, Clement.”

I let off asurprised expression.

“Yeah, besurprised if you want. Anyways, you should be lucky. Hugo wanted to waste youright away. In public. What a dolt,” she laughed.

“Hey!”

“Anyways,just figured I’d point out you got screwed by fate. You almost got away but youdidn’t, so I told Mr. Palatzo that you’d drop your guard sooner or later.Sooner, it seems from the situation here. That’s all there is. You know therest. Have fun with him, Hugo.”

I tried tolet off a scream but to no avail.

“This isgonna hurt a lot”, said Hugo, as he picked up a crowbar and raised it above hishead.

He wasright, this was going to hu---

A look back at 9/11/2001 (Has it really been 10 years?)

2011-09-11T22:24:00.001-05:00

It feels weird to be here at ten years after the event. I hate to call it a special occasion or some important moment, but that is what it is. To be frank, I don't wish to talk about the grandiose or the political; just how much I think the world has changed or if I think "the terrorists won". But I do think it is important to look back and attempt to make sense of what happened that day, because I certainly did not foresee anything or really had any clue of the bigger picture.

Though, if you want to see the bigger picture (and I certainly enjoyed taking a look back to a period where I, like many other 13 year-olds were ignorant of the outside world), The Atlantic has done a fantastic job at the bigger picture with photos of the news just a week before, as well as photos from that day and a look at the decade since, and how much has changed.

For anyone who even witnessed 9/11 in one form or another, they remember enough of that day and what they were doing when they saw those images on the television or heard the news from the radio or even heard the hushed whispers from the adults. Because if you were a few years from my age ten years ago, you probably though it was just another boring Tuesday at school until you found out something beyond impossible had just happened.

For myself, it was exactly that until 3PM that sunny school day. I could remember nothing from that day between 8:30 until 3. As I got in the car to go home, my parents turned around and asked me if I had heard about the news - the World Trade Center in New York had been hit by planes. Instantly, I recognized what they were talking about, because a few summers ago we had just visited New York as part of a trip down the East Coast of the U.S. We had been up on top of the tower, taking pictures. We had been in the elevators feeling our ears pop as it carried us to the top of one of the observation deck. Certainly, after I had been told that people flew planes into them I thought it was beyond belief. You mean like in a movie right? It was an accident right? No it couldn't have been if two struck within so close to another that same day. Didn't people in the movies mostly use planes full of people as hostages and ask for demands and fly them somewhere safe and out of the way?

It wasn't until I saw the recordings my parents made that I finally saw the images of the attack. It certainly couldn't be real, right? Then we switched to the live news on CNN. Nope, it was for real now, hours after the fact. Still, the news networks kept replaying those same images of the towers being hit, their eventual collapse and the aftermath with people running away from the dust clouds. The Pentagon too? We had passed it on our vacation that same year, but now damaged from being struck by a plane.

The next few days, all I can remember is being glued in front of the TV watching the news if I wasn't at school. Footage of rescue workers trying to find people under all that debris. I can never seem to recall any of it unless someone showed me a picture, triggering a rush of all those images. I certainly wasn't concentrated on the speculative side of things - the who's and the why's were definitely beyond my comprehension at that point of my life. Either way, I was certain enough that this was the defining moment of my generation and after that day, the world would become a much different place. Perhaps, like many other generations in history who witnessed a similar world-changing event felt very much the same, and again in subsequent ten-year anniversaries of it, for good or for worse. It would be hard to argue that 9/11 was at all similar to anything in even the recent past because for the most part, it sure looked like uncharted territory from where I was standing.

Extreme experiments in eccentricity (alternatively: Awesome alliteration action!)

2011-09-05T23:33:00.000-05:00

Now here's a blast from your high school past: alliteration! Sure, you may have thought it was just some dusty old poetic device, but I'm here to tell you it could be better than that (and if you forgot, take that minute to use the Internet to remind you).

Everything is better with alliteration! (Though I have yet to make that phrase into a nice alliteration)

It's going to come back in a big way, though certainly not because of me, because I don't command the attention of more than five people on the Internet (if your Googling adventures brought you here then I'm sorry, but you are now trapped; also, what in the world were you Googling anyways?). But here I am, getting the first foot in on a worldwide phenomenon, coming soon.

"Why, Kelvin?", you may ask, or even, "Did you get punched in the face by a passing cyclist?"

I have yet to be punched in the face by a passing cyclist (though I'm certain that day is coming) if that answers anything. As for why? Well, I simply woke up one day and decided to. Really.

Alliteration makes things sound much more interesting than they normally would, or at the very least make you sound smarter than you should be. One more step up that ivory tower! Let's conjure up some examples, shall we?

Friends-with-benefits? More like carnal companions.
A rather large and bothersome flightless bird? Why not say it's an obnoxious ostrich instead?
They were K-I-S-S-I-N-G where? In a tree? Maybe you meant in Helen and Humphrey's hidey-hole!

Now I could go on forever, but you can't be excited for that long (it would actually kill you, and we wouldn't want that now, would we?). That, plus I forgot to write all the good ones I ad libbed weeks in advance for writing this or, perhaps at times they take a bit of premeditation and preparation to position them properly for proper potency (and I had twenty different titles for this entry too!). Or the first excuse. We wouldn't want you all dead on account of all my amazing alliterations!

No we wouldn't.

How I put the moves on the girl of my dreams, OR, why you shouldn't cut the circulation off to your brain

2011-02-17T03:40:00.000-05:00

I don't think I've ever mentioned it enough but I am really thankful that the Internet exists so I can post the most inane, pointless crap that comes to mind for an audience of (at least) one and less than two. (Hint: that would mean me. Note: stop using the same joke over and over again.) There are more important things going on in the world, but I've decided that on this little plot of internet-land that I'm going to do nothing important with it.

I have been sitting on this for quite a while. Over a month, in fact. I like to entertain myself by constantly making up excuses to be busy. I even get studying done because I'd rather use that to procrastinate with. But that's not the point because it's ...

Crazy dream time! Again!

I will keep this short because, to my faithful audience of one (Really? The same joke again?), I am sort of getting tired of writing really, really long entries. Or maybe because I'm typing away in the middle of the evening instead of getting sleep, but I really just want to get this done.

Is that irony or something? That I want to get some sleep while I type mindlessly away about a dream.

We shall begin this story in a blur, because, as Inception taught us, you never know how exactly you ended up where you were in a dream. You were just there and now I knew what I had to do: tear up drywall around my home and turn over every chair, couch, Mr. Potato Head and dumpster looking for dead bodies. Why? Because there is a serial killer loose, that's why! Eventually I reach a point where I find a body, but all I do is turn the couch back on its side, and sit down to have a drink.

I have no clue how my brain is wired, because at this part, this attractive woman decides to come sit down beside me. No words are exchanged, only looks. This is where it gets weirder. Now, this requires that I admit at the time of this writing, I still have not gotten to first base. Ever. Let alone get up to bat, if we should continue these baseball analogies.

Because to me, as soon as I leaned in for the kiss - my brain decided to use the only substitute on hand, the feeling of my lips against Plexiglas. Not that I wasn't constantly shoved into windows all my youth, or that I practiced making out with my iPod Touch (I'll leave your decision on which for you to decide). If you had something to eat in a dream, you would experience it as if it were real, but that's how you can tell if it's a dream or not -- is there something novel introduced? If so, your brain could never have made it up (or maybe I'm just not enough a savant to have those kinds of dreams).

Anyways, another flash. I wake up on a bench. Where am I? A cross between Pearson Airport and a GO Train station. A TTC train runs by as I explore, looking for a pizza place, because she wanted pizza, damnit. As the train passes, in the background, I see a ball pit. As I think about how I could possibly get into that ball pit, I wake up.

Yeah, don't try to read into any of that.

Waxing Poetic/Waxing Pathetic

2010-12-24T18:37:00.000-05:00

This is my Christmas present to myself, because at least I don't have to fumble around with tape, wrapping paper and a ribbon, only to give up after an hour, wasting half the roll of wrapping paper on failed attempts. Plus I would have to try to find a box that would fit. I suppose if you fanatically follow this blog (tragedy of the year, right here) you might enjoy it as well.

I spent about 20 minutes figuring out where to file this, whether this should be something I revisit occasionally, but I suppose this may just be a once-in-a-lifetime thing. It isn't exactly easy for me to find inspiration for the topic I wish to address, probably because I don't do much valuable thinking even when I stare contemplatively out a window.

What follows below may be completely true, entirely fiction, or a mix of something in between. What a tease! How you wish to interpret that is up to you, but I have to let you know, I feel extremely relieved this will likely never be analyzed to death (like we all are taught to do in academia) by anyone. Eschewing details is one of my specialties it seems, so another complication for the imaginary reader - am I being vague on purpose, or is it simply that I have absolutely no relation to the material that I can only to paint broad strokes? Well, they do it on GLEE all the time and millions of people watch and enjoy it, so it's not an impossible dream, now is it? Or maybe, for all your psych majors, you could say I have yet to confront these thoughts I have in my head and that I need to pay you hourly to tell you I'm crazy. Sorry, but I already know I'm crazy.

(Oh, and if you have absolutely no clue what the title means, you may want to google "wax poetic"; the second half is pretty much self-explanatory from that point.)

Here goes nothing:

How long ago was it since our last moment together? I can remember that moment so vividly, it was most certainly a goodbye, but I did not treat it as such. Easily, the regret fermented moments after the event. Almost three years have gone by. Perhaps I have fallen into that oh-so-predictable trap: a rose-tinted view of the past. The irony is unbelievable, myself a history student, to subscribe to it. This is worsened by the fact I idealize this past, become cognizant of it, yet I do not wish to break free of it, because I have nothing else of worth to hold on to.

Arguments were our fuel. Nothing substantial, just about petty things like falling asleep during something important, or taking the wrong directions. Nothing we couldn't solve just by airing it out and laughing over it. They almost had a comedic ring to it. If suddenly life was framed as sitcom, the audience would always respond at our conversations with laughter. Idealism again.

I felt as if I knew you back then. Now, I only feel like I knew nothing about you at all. All the real details are foggy, and only this simplistic ideal I created remains. You were more complicated than that, as people are bound to be. Yet I cannot concede to this simple fact, lest I shatter this dream.

Others might recommend I should try to get back in touch. Facebook? Even Facebook recommends I should. But this is a coward you are addressing. Perhaps I do not wish to confront her, too much time that has passed. Two summers, almost three years. "You never know what will happen", they might say. I don't want to know. I fear the change time has wrought on both of us. Idealism and pessimism, a deadly combination.

Recently I had a dream where we both starred. Like with my other dreams, most of it was a blur, but you were of unreal clarity. We had met again, yet you had changed so much. Both of us wanted you to stay but you had to no choice but to leave. Typical romance movie trope, I realize. We said our goodbyes and cried. You forgot your coat but I could not bear it to find you and return it to you. It was all I had left.

I enjoyed every waking moment of it, even if most of it was spent with you joking about how ridiculous I looked while asleep in a chair, or playfully getting cross at me for the smallest mistake that I made. I don't believe I ever told you anything about myself. I was always somewhat aloof, a problem I cannot seem to rid myself of even to this day. Was what we had something that someone might define as love? I can never be sure. Perhaps we were nothing more than kindred spirits. Regardless, what I would wish more in the world would be to tell you. To apologize for being so aloof the entire time. I just walked away from our final moment as if I didn't care. But I did. A terrible goodbye scene if I ever saw one.

Well, that would make a terrible short story, wouldn't it? Publisher repellent, right here.

Monday morning's microsleep misadventures, OR, The plot to Inception 2

2010-10-28T23:03:00.000-05:00

You might ask "Hey wait, didn't you have a ton of work due last Tuesday?" And the answer was yes. BUT, I thought it was important enough to take a nap between classes before getting some work done. Also, general laziness.

And you know what? It was totally worth it. Because I had such an amazingly weird dream that I just thought I had to share with everyone! (read: noone). And, like any other good crazy person, as soon as I woke up I wrote it down to make sure it didn't get tainted by the passage of time. So what you (read: noone, really) will read in the following paragraphs is a retelling of this pure, raw, unadulterated dream. It was pretty awesome, I must admit.

To begin, like all good dreams, it started thinking I had woken up. Of course, I did not realize that I was still sleeping. So there I was, getting out of my seat at Gerstein Library and then I strolled downstairs. As usual, the computer lab was pretty much full. But I had work to do! Someone needed to leave immediately! A spot opens up, so I sit down and try to log in. This process begins to take forever, so now I feel like I'm back in 2002 when school computers were slower than molasses flowing uphill in the cold January evening.

Beside me, someone leaves and a woman sits down, trying to log on as well. I stare longingly at my screen and she asks me a question. As in the real world, I didn't have an answer, so we both go back to staring at our screens, trying to somehow telepathically or telekinetically speed up the login process.

I decide staring at the screen wasn't going to do me any good, so I hope the scenery is more stimulating. Except the campus was replaced with the intersection of Yonge and Queen.

This is where it gets good. (Start playing some dramatic music!)

I look back down. The desk is now cleared and now the computer lab is now a restaurant. The desk in the row ahead of ours is now the restaurant bar. The woman sitting beside me is now in the seat beside me. The server comes up and asks for our orders. She orders a steak, and so do I. I was curious why he didn't ask about our drinks, but I feel can of Coke in my hand, seemingly out of nowhere. I look around and I find that the computers have been moved and people are at them. I'll never get any work done!

Out of the distance, a crazy lady gives me the stink eye. A man suddenly appears and sits down in front of me and proceeds to tell me why she seems so crazy.

At this point, he starts speaking gibberish (actual gibberish, maybe even Simlish) and subtitles appear.

He told me she was not crazy at all, but she was deeply scarred as a child. As a child, her money was stolen by England (yes, England!), and while she knew she deserved it, she wanted to take her money back. So she reached out of the plane window to try and stop them, but the plane hit some turbulance, shaking her extremely hard and frightening her.

Suddenly the scene changes and both the woman and I are on the plane, and the man is now a disembodied voice. What I see is that lady in a window seat on the plane. The voice tells me the window she is sitting beside can be rolled down. She looks noticeably nervous as the plane begins its takeoff sequence. Her nervous tics begin to show. As we take off, I watch a projector screen showing the front of the plane. At the end of the runway is a 30m tall wall that we somehow miss. From behind me, a little boy begins asking me questions (but surprisingly, he doesn't kick my seat) that we both answer easily.

From the outside of the plane, I notice a few things during takeoff. The ocean, a cargo ship, a dead squiggoth and some waterfalls, but I cannot pinpoint the origin of where the water is coming from. At this point I wake up.

Do I sound crazy or what?

No, that woman wasn't you, but it was you! I really didn't remember any features on her, so you could superimpose your likeness if you wanted to be in my dreams! (Noone really would)
I couldn't make this up even if I tried. Read it again! Only my subconscious is good enough at stringing along completely impossible things together. I'm just replaying it for you.

Roll up your sleeves and show off your tattoo, or I just don't understand people

2010-10-04T23:38:00.000-05:00

Maybe it's just me, but my face began to convulse and form an expression resembling confusion as I watched someone leave the subway train, and for no inexplicable reason roll up his sleeves, blatantly showing off the tattoos on his arms. They didn't even look that good. I've seen better graffiti by my old elementary school. It really just seemed like his morning routine was: wake up, brush teeth, draw fake tattoos onto arms with Shaprie. Hey, if you don't believe me, here's a (rough) transcript of the conversation I was having. With myself:

Me to self: Oh man, it's too early, why am I only half awake this morning? I ate breakfast and everything ... say, why is that guy over there rolling up his sleeves?

Self to me: It looks like he's showing off his tattoos. But it's 8 in the morning, what would possess someone to do such a thing?

Me to self: They don't even look real, maybe I should tell him.

Self to me: Are you kidding? That guy is first of all, taller than you, and I'm pretty sure the size of your arms are the the size of his arm bones. Don't get us beat up saying something stupid.

Me to self: Fine.

But now that I don't have a proper segue (or I'm just that inarticulate with the English language), let me discuss why I simply don't understand people. Maybe it's because I'm a hermit. Or a manchild. Or just Asian. Either way, I never really could read people properly. They'd say one thing, then that brain of mine begins to scramble to find something relevant to add to the conversation. It's like my brain is Googling key words from the last 8 seconds and trying to get me to say whatever the first thing that pops up out of the search engine. Usually he gets it wrong, but we've been practicing. Haven't we? Don't worry, he's getting better; it doesn't help that along with that, I have to shove a ton of readings on him to process on his off time. Lazy asshole, err, brain.

Sadly, I really am completely terrible at human interaction. I keep hearing about these signs people give during conversations - things like smiles, touch, twirls, chuckles - that I simply can't grasp! Oh ho, don't I feel clever when I feign ignorance to see if that cute girl thinks that was adorable. Problem is, I'm not feigning ignorance! Sorry, all your innuendo and subtlety is lost on me! I didn't mean it, I'm just afraid of people; interacting with people is frightening to me. That's why I seem to be years behind what some might consider a basic social skill. What do you mean I'm not supposed to pick my teeth while mid-conversation? Why can't we all just leave each other alone and then pelt rocks at each other if we want each others' attention?

Boy, this form of self-diagnosis feels so much better. I feel like I'm getting to the root of my problems. Who needs a shrink? Maybe after a few more of these, I will have transformed into a much better human being, capable of taking on the modern world and all it's challenges! For about 3 minutes. I mean, I stepped outside once, but is the sun supposed to be that bright? And that hot? I don't think I can last out there; I'll just stay in bed.

Random thoughts that might never lead anywhere:

I actually am putting a conscious effort to not be Super Loner Man. So if I seem creepy in real life, I still am because I'm still trying to figure this out. At least it's not like driving where I'm in control of two tons of metal careening down on innocent bystanders. The only thing I might injure is your faith in humanity. There doesn't seem to be a handbook, guide or instruction manual to using this human being thing I got three Christmases ago. That might explain why I'm working on a Human Biology Major: they're the ones with the instruction manuals!
"What is love?" Why is the response to the challenge, "Baby, don't hurt me, don't hurt me no more"? Find out next time when I try to decipher this mystery that spans millenia!
I think the hot dog guy recognizes me now. Maybe I should switch hot dog guys.
I'm pretty sure my alarm clock is trying to sabotage my plans of being able to wake up early enough to eat breakfast. I need to give it a stern talking to.

The Girl with the Saliva-Soaked Wristband

2010-09-13T16:44:00.000-05:00

Excuse me while I borrow a clichéd phrase, but it was like watching a train wreck. In slow motion. And the someone rewound the video and then made you watch it again once in slow motion then again at 16x speed. And then they turned on the commentary track and had the director describe how they used real human limbs in the scene. Oh, and then a Russian mobster caves your skull in with a baseball bat.

Did I go overboard again?

But the phrase holds true. I really could not take my eyes off the events unfolding in front of my eyes!

Let's paint the scene: One stop after I got on the subway, a bunch of high school students boarded the car I was sitting in. Without warning after leaving that station, I noticed something out of the corner of my eye. I had to do a triple take because what I was witnessing was that confusing. Wait, it must be candy right? Candy! Please be candy! It wasn't candy.

That was pretty evident because she took it out of her mouth. And then back in again; repeat ad nauseum. Naturally could not take my eyes off her because of this fact (and if you are thinking otherwise, a dudebro would have given her at least an 8, "but dude, she's like, 16, bro [really]"; the point is moot unless you happen to be my little brother). She was standing in front of me a couple feet away and I could not possibly find any possible escape route. In retrospect I probably should have closed my eyes and sang along to whatever was playing on my iPod that morning. This was one of the days where I curse my excellent peripheral vision even though I wear glasses, plus the reflection in the window didn't seem to help much either.

What completely confuses me was how she just did it so nonchalantly in front a friend and in a train full of people. I mean, I have no problem doing something embarrassing or slightly weird in public. But it just went in and out, in and out, in and out. And then it just goes back on her wrist (right hand, if you were wondering). Apparently silicone is just that tasty.

(And I might as well fire off the rest of the terribly bad double entrendres: 'she put the entire thing in her mouth!', 'man, she gave that a thorough licking!', 'it came out smelling funny!', 'I wonder how many more she could fit in her mouth!', etc. [To be quite honest, I just came up with the last two a couple of moments ago.])

I really hope she washes that wristband on a regular basis. And her hands, in that case. This might be how people with mild OCD devolve into crazy germophobes that have to wash their hands at any possible opportunity. I'm afraid I have to go wash my hands now; they feel dirty just thinking about it.

[Also, if you didn't happen to catch to obvious reference the title made, you really need to crawl out from under your rock. Really. Loser. No, I didn't read the book either.]

And now time for my triumphant return! (Or is it a reboot?)

2010-09-10T16:40:00.000-05:00

Okay, so the first question you (in most cases myself, re-reading this) might have is, "What the hell? After so long?" Yes, after my last post in December 2007, I'm back! (Possibly with a vengeance; I haven't decided yet). After much goading from my inner voice (that never shuts up) and also the fact that I have no real outlet to express ... things anywhere else, this was an ideal time for my return. That means it's time to dust off the cupboards (that serve no real purpose, the doors don't even work!) and get back to typing about whatever thoughts that decide to squat in my mind. Unless it was a song I heard on the radio. Because I can google that stuff. I'm not stupid. Enough.

So what has changed inbetween all that time? Well, if you assume I wasn't frozen in stasis, I would have grown older and wiser. You might say I have accumulated more experience. Maybe even leveled up. The latter I did plenty of. Of course, to make it clear, YES, I was in fact playing World of Warcraft since January of 2008, so of course I did plenty of leveling up. So, I was basically frozen in stasis. Have I accumulated more experience? Not in any real-life sense. If anything, I might even be more immature than I have ever been. That might explain my absence in any social or mental development. Oh, and I know how to use semi-colons. Most of the time. At least I keep telling myself that.

Of course, this is the fabled Internet of yore, so take anything I say with a grain of salt. Truckloads, rather.

Most of what I say is 33% truth, 33% fiction and 33% of me trying to be funny. And 1% of something else I can't describe. I should google it. [Author's note: I tried to make it add to 101% but I forgot 3(33)+1 equals 100. Can't even do bad math, sheesh.]

Secondly, time to settle this age-old (more like week-old) argument if this post means it is a sequel, or a reboot relative to my previous entries. Since I chose to forgo setting up a new site, we can assume a few facts: I am lazy, and this was entirely done to specifically confuse you (i.e. myself in four years regretting that I wrote this at all).

A reboot? Given the recent popularity of reboots throughout Hollywood, maybe I was influenced by this? Well, given the fact that my only use of the word 'reboot' was the CGI cartoon and what you do to restart your computer, like hell I knew I could reboot something in the TV/movie sense.

Well, if we approach this logically, I haven't been recast with someone more handsome, virile and younger than me (Sorry, ladies! Not that you'd read this anyway) or been re-imaged in a more modern setting and especially since neither Christopher Nolan or J.J. Abrams & Co. are any at bit in charge of how my life is running (that or they are exceptionally good puppetmasters, since I can't seem to find this veil they're hiding behind) I'm going to have to eliminate the possibility this is a reboot at all.

Perhaps a sequel? Well, I could slap a "2" beside the title and call it a day, but that means I would have to set up another blog somewhere else. Too much work. Key questions that need answering: Has time passed? Yes. Is there a new threat that I need to rise up to challenge? Not really, unless you count the incessant voice in my head, so half-yes. Do I have a sidekick? Nope. Do I suddenly lose all semblance of a status quo and start challenging all the assumptions I've had as wrong, or something, before I finally realize I knew the real truth all along? Umm ... pass.

It's probably not a sequel eiher. But if it was, I would want to write the title to it. That would be an awesome job, wouldn't it? Would I put a "2" beside it, or something that indicates "here we go again"? Let's give it a try:

Sotally Tober 2
Sotally Tober Returns
Sotally Tober Again (additional "and Again"s for further additions)

Well that was boring. We should spice it up with a subtitle. Or if you're feeling particularly adventurous, we could use multiple.

Sotally Tober 2: Here We Go Again
Sotally Tober 2: Collective Groan
Sotally Tober 2: Vengeance
Sotally Tober 2: Yet Another Post: The Reckoning Begins: Vengeance Returns with a Vengeance: A Modern Tale of Tragic Comedy in a Post-Post-9/11 World

Maybe I went a little overboard on the last one.

I wish you a Merry Christmas, PC people included

2007-12-23T11:23:00.000-05:00

This is why political correctness is actually ruining society. People like us can't afford to celebrate Christmas without offending other people. It's not like we really needed to care what other people celebrate throughout the year, why pick on us? Sure, there is the other party across the street, or the one that can't seem to have a fixed day or whichever ones, mind you, but wouldn't you rather say "Merry Christmas" instead of Happy Holidays/. That's great you celebrate whatever, but Western Society deems that we celebrate Christmas. Sure, go ahead with all that state and church seperation and all that crap you can use to argue against it, but when I was 5, it was Christmas, and I didn't really notice the Christmas until I was 10. Maybe I was just a tad slow, but for those 5 years I really didn't care (compound my 'problem' - for you PC folk - with the fact I never paid attention in Catholic school) and I was basically an atheist the whole time! See, I didn't care! You've had about 2000 years to care! So shut your traps, because it's Christmas. And if you type Xmas, you better just be lazy...

Next, you'll all want Santa's sleigh to be a hybrid, force his toy factory to limit greenhouse gas emissions, to stop using Reindeer because it's animal cruelty and you'll want him to lose weight because he's a bad role model. Seriously...

You already ruined the Cookie Monster. Stop it. Cookies are not good "once-in-a-while", they are ALWAYS good.

Exercises in Futility

2007-09-30T00:19:00.000-05:00

If I had to choose a tagline for my movie, this would probably be it. Of course, why would there be a movie about uninteresting people like me? Well, I'm sure the writers could add ninjas.

Futility, you have to love it. "Resistance is futile", and all those fun expressions. Obviously a humourous jumping off point for insulting myself. That is what I do, isn't it? What is so fruitless about my efforts, you may ask? A list might come in handy, but I prefer you to get lost in my redundant rhethoric and poorly written anecdotes. That's where all the real fun is. Plus, I just sounded like one of my English teachers just then.

The first month of second year is already in and ... I'm back to my lazy ways. Give me credit though, for almost trying to study in my free time. Maybe the first two weeks. Or it might've just been the one. I'm already the whole month behind on tons of homework (yes, they still give problem sets for math courses) and reviewing what I supposedly learned at the end of the day. But, there is that old familiar feeling that I seem to get every weekend: "Damn it, if it kills me, I'm catching up on the weekend", followed by, just before the minute it becomes Monday again with, "Well, the weekend's up, and I got nothing done". Seems to work fine for now. I should stick with it. It's futile to try anything otherwise.

Next up, Sudoku. Let's just say I didn't exactly get into it back in the day. Boy, did I sure pay that price. Of course, the old adage, practice makes perfect doesn't seem to apply for me. Feels more like practice makes embarassment. I try to do two puzzles every weekday - one from the Toronto Star (free on campus) and the Metro one. Of course, you could be sympathetic after you hear I've only been doing this for 2 or 3 months, but my lack of progress simply makes your optimism futile as well. I've noticed it, myself - standing there, looking like and idiot for minutes on end. I can usually find myself staring for over half an hour at the puzzle, perplexed and stupid enough to qualify for learning accessibility services. And, of course, the clincher is truly the part where I looked too hard for a simple solution - for 30 minutes. It usually takes me the whole commute, from near start to end to finish a puzzle. How long does it take for me to commute to and fro? Slightly over an hour. Yes, I hang my head in shame. Of course, a good excuse I've found is to "get tired" to get people to stop staring at me when I am ... stumped, for lack of a better word. Usually, I just fall asleep, so it saves me any extra embarassment.

And, to add to the list, give thanks to Henry. Obviously the curriculum at the University of Waterloo, or ULoo as I call it, is fairly lacking in some areas (see below). A futile effort on behalf of the teaching faculty, or so it seems.

Of course, elaboration: According to him, the answers in an online quiz as questions. Responses are all 'A'. Of course, when the same answer comes up on multiple choice it always looks fishy. Here follows a truncated, but accurate log (mostly to filter out the parts where I'm stupid):

hank. . .: lol
hank. . .: somethings very queer here
hank. . .: how come all my answers are 'A' so far
hank. . .: i hate it
Kelvin (Sober): are you sure its not you
hank. . .: because then it makes me doubt my answers
hank. . .: dude ims erious
hank. . .: 10 questions
Kelvin (Sober): yeah
hank. . .: all A
Kelvin (Sober): it does that
Kelvin (Sober): MAYBE THEY'RE ALL A
hank. . .: well we'll fucking see
hank. . .: if not
hank. . .: im going to cry
hank. . .: dude fuck
hank. . .: 12 questions
hank. . .: a~!
hank. . .: so i did chapt 2
hank. . .: and its all 'A's again
hank. . .: as unethical as it is
hank. . .: i just dont see the damn point in spending time reading over ecology shit
hank. . .: if they make it this easy
Kelvin (Sober): maybe you're doing it wrong
hank. . .: apparently i can submit a fake test
hank. . .: get teh answers
hank. . .: then do it again on my 2nd try
hank. . .: and get it all right
Kelvin (Sober): bahahaha
hank. . .: the professor or TA didnt try very hard
hank. . .: lol
hank. . .: chapt 3
hank. . .: on my 1st try
hank. . .: all A's
hank. . .: 100%
hank. . .: booyah!
hank. . .: Your response has been submitted successfully
Points Awarded 20
Points Missed 0
Percentage 100%

You can judge for yourself.

Next stop: back to normal

2007-09-07T13:01:00.000-05:00

And just like that, summer vacation is over. Good riddance, I say. Wish it would come faster, because I'm still baking in this godforsaken weather. But at least it's been mostly dry this year. Humidity is an unnecessary cruelty.

Back to the grind. Well, I don't exactly operate (i.e. have classes) from 9 to 5 each day, but it'll be good to go back to a routine of sorts. Also, primetime tv as well returns, and of course, that means I had nothing to do for most of the summer (yes, nothing except nothing, which is something enough).

My summer can be summed up in: I did mostly nothing worth remembering, but I watched the Simpsons Movie, Rush Hour 3 and Mr. Bean's holiday. But that was about it. Oh and summer school, but it's not like this is an assignment. Nor am I getting marks.

I haven't caught up on my reading, so maybe I should. There's also alot of things "I should"s, but as soon as everything goes back to normal, that means I become just as lazy. It's just how I work. Perhaps I should get on Facebook more often. I haven't touched Facebook except maybe ... 3 times this year, and they lasted about 2 minutes each. Fantastic, aren't I?

Leaving me, leaving me here on my own

2007-08-05T10:44:00.000-05:00

… but that’s all a lie. And yes, that line is also from that song. That I took a line from earlier.

I, unfortunately will not be my own. Hello again. Here is your week’s notice, because in some two week period between August 11 and 28, the old folks are off back home, leaving me and the two hellspawn creatures that are my siblings. I personally never liked flying, even before 9/11. Well, two or so weeks of freedom will do us some good, and when I use ‘us’, I refer to not me, because it will probably result, 13 hours and 43 minutes later that I will have to do everything myself, because neither one of my siblings can be trusted with watching the stove or oven. Might as well just turn the gas then light a match, same effect.

And now, take a breather. Not that the last paragraph was particularly long, that breather was for me. I think sometimes I take a little too long between entries. Or that may mean I live a very boring life. Or I’m lazy. How lazy? Must I say again? Well, I am writing this even though I promised myself this weekend I should be working on this assignment due next Thursday. “This weekend” proceeded to become “Saturday, after lunch”, which did not seem to pan out either. Maybe “Sunday, after lunch”, but I am planning to watch the Simpsons Movie, probably just before noon, so unless I lose my train of thought again I just might … what was I going on about now?

Oh yes, the last of my classes finish Thursday as well, which is when this assignment/presentation is due. I’m pretty sure I could do it on time, or even before, except I have this reminder that I am pretty lazy. I could be doing research, taking notes, preparing. Or I could be doing this. Obviously I am more important, so I am doing this for my own benefit, and I think I kept myself waiting long enough (anyone else who actually reads – but doesn’t comment, you fiends – also counts too. Just not as much as me).

Now before I forget:

The Thursday morning commute was a bit different. I may have stumbled on the subway train with more tourists (Tourists during rush hour? Doubt it), because the train driver who was announcing stops that morning at least had a sense of humour. And had proper annunciation; you cannot believe some of the drivers who mumble your next stop. Well, this guy, he was something else. Some of the most memorable lines include: “Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls of all shapes and sizes, colours and origins … the next stop is Donlands, Donlands station.”, “It’s a beautiful day today in Toronto”, as we passed over the bridge over the Don Valley between Broadview and Castle Frank, “everyone enjoy your day and make the most of it” (or something along those lines). Lastly, which elicited a few chuckles was “Next stop is the Official Centre of the Universe, Bloor (-Yonge) Station”. If you get that joke, good, because I really don’t feel like explaining it right now. But it was funny. Pretty funny.

Weird tidbit: Weird things happen in bed, well, in this case, when I’m asleep. I go to sleep fully clothed (T-shirt, shorts, not winter pyjama attire), except I realize only after I take a late-night trip to the washroom do I realize I’m only down to my boxers. Such a mystery, I may need to film and document this … but that would be just a tad too creepy, even for me.

Some sad news: The ride is almost come to an end, because I’ve almost finished watching season 6 of Gilmour Girls. There are 7 seasons, which means at the pace I watch TV shows, this could be over before I start studying for my final test. Because I’m that lazy. But in all seriousness, Gilmour Girls was a good show, and damn those suits for cancelling it after all that, since all the characters, through good times and bad in their character development is always so likable, or even relatable. Sure, there aren’t guns blazing or SWAT teams busting through roofs or ninjas, but who says I can’t watch more than that? Screw your gender roles and stereotypes. Besides, Gilmour Girls was pretty funny.

Next TV season, new shows don’t look as promising though. There are maybe 4 or 5 new shows, and for the most part are dramadies, because that should be how life plays out, funny with a hint of “wow that was serious”. What am I watching out for?

Bionic Woman is a remake of the old 70s show, but better and contemporary. By the guys who remade Battlestar Galactica. No need to feel nerdy watching because it’s on a channel everyone gets, not some sci-fi specialty channel. Don’t worry, Heroes might’ve brought sci-fi to the mainstream.

Chuck is about a 20-year old something guy who becomes a human computer after his old roommate e-mails him everything all government secret like (CIA and friends), but the twist is he’s just a nerd who works in the tech department at a big box store. Geek and spy story, and it sounds interesting. (I could never figure out how to use geek and nerd, so sue me). Also Adam Baldwin from Firefly (Jayne) is one of the agents, so it doesn’t get better.

Reaper is about the main character Sam, who, strangely enough, also works at a big-box store (which is conveniently a Canadian Tire all dressed up differently), which he finds out when he turns 21, that his parents sold his soul to the devil, and the devil in turn recruits him to be his bounty hunter, collecting souls that escaped hell. The devil himself has a sense of humour, lucky/fortunate us

The Sarah Connor Chronicles is “the better sequel” to Terminator 2. Basically this is the better alternate universe (that is, Terminator 3 never happens), so it takes off two years after Terminator 2 (great movie), and the Connors are off to run from Terminators and travelling to 2008 to try to stop Judgement Day. Again. The ‘good’ terminator is the Summer Glau (River Tam from Firefly – what’s with all the Firefly? More awesome, obviously) and yes, she kicks shiny metal ass.

Yes, I watched all the pilot episodes, but if you’re a suit working for a big corporation and those last few paragraphs are just … coincidence. Coincidence … yes. Well, I’d watch it if they aired again, even with commercials. What I didn’t like was The Big Bang Theory, which is about a hot chick moving across the hall from a pair of nerds. When I say nerds, we are talking about the
1990s typical high-school chess-club, computer-club, A/V-club, Math-club, Algebra-club (because even they’re too intense for the math club) stereotypical nerds who basically watch frame-by-frame Star Wars/Star Trek/Battlestar Galactica for the slightest of hints. Needless to say, there goes their target audience. And the chick (her character at least) is a complete ditz (I’ll assume her being blonde is a total coincidence). The “jokes” are possibly funny, but that means you somehow ended up being in their target audience that didn’t turn away fast enough, even with the presence of a laugh track (which wasn’t put to much good use).

Oh wow, 1200 words. No, this is not practice for my 1000 word essay, which is part of my final assignment. But does it matter even if it was? Actually, I get docked points for going over 1000, which is the hard part. Damn these low word limits. Yes, I’m still horrible at conclusions in essay writing or not – still have and will probably always will be so I’ll just end it in the most classic way one can.

That’s it.

*goes back to seat*

Those idle hands...

2007-07-19T06:40:00.000-05:00

... they are the devil's tools!

Well, I wouldn't try to make a movie out of this short-lived experience of mine (as such), and heck, I wouldn't even consider it even a partial or successful possession. And no, I am not trying to find anything funny about Happy Time, because this is not about it (If you've watched the Transformers movie it might sound familiar).

Ah yes, I forget, I may be talking to myself, but my senile, hysterical future self would kill me (if he had the time machine, the strength and something to rule out the paradox) for not writing down exactly what happened. Alright. Simply put, browsing the Internet late at night seems to qualify. At least for an automated probe by the possession forces of Lucifer/Satan/Lex Luthor (this list goes on and on). My finger twitched! As in, it had a mind of it's own! It took every ounce of willpower to beat it back to the hellish depths from whence it came. Give or take. I may have rolled a 20, which meant smooth sailing for me. I expect to have my room completely exorcised by the end of the week.

Lastly, I have discovered a smell that rivals Old Spice. Yes, Old Spice, I may or may not use it, and it is a familiar scent to those who do and know those who do. But take a towel that has been kept in a drawer for a lengthy amount of time (for the lack of a better term). An IKEA one, I might add. Bathe, then apply said towel in drying procedure. Apparently this scent (of a drawer) will overtake the mighty Old Spice. Or maybe not, I can never tell the two apart sometimes. But it's good if you want to pass off as being Swedish. Or an IKEA employee. Dye your hair bleach blonde, and you may pass as a Swedish IKEA employee.

I'm also more than meets the eye

2007-07-10T11:14:00.000-05:00

So what about that Transformers movie? I thought it was pretty good, except, as some other people might've said, the robot forms were a little too busy and had too much on them. Whoever designed them did a helluva good job, just in the action sequences it gets kinda messy for the eyes (which haven't gone bad), although I would've just as much liked a throwback to the 80's designs, all blocky. I'm not exactly a hardcore Transformers fan, so I took most of the movie as it was instead of trying to compare it straight to the cartoons of yesteryear.

It was pretty entertaining, even though anyone who's watched a Steven Spielberg or Michael Bay film could probably tell it was pretty obvious who was in charge of which parts of the movie. And I'd be considered a neophyte in the field of moves. Well, at least, the moral of the story (and also the teen storyline) is that the only way you'll get the girl you've been pining for 10 years but hasn't acknowledged your existance is to get her caught up in saving the world with you. Now if I could only end up having to save the world...

I still hate the summer months, the air is hot and heavy, and as much as I like seeing girls in short attire, I wasn't made for this weather, no matter how much I was born in Hong Kong, aka humidity central (it's on the list, if there was a list).

And the first test for my biology class, results are out. Apparently:

The following is a breakdown of the class distribution:
A (>80%), 18.4%
B (70-79%), 28.6%
C (60-69%), 15.3%
D (50-59%), 22.4%
Less than 50%, 15.3%.

Now there's a reason why the classes have been so empty. I scored the in the B region. Yes, I'm just as dull as I seem.

It's a system

2007-07-02T02:10:00.000-05:00

So, of all the worse times to be thinking of anything else, it just has to be during a test. On evolutionary biology, of all things. Anyways, it was all multiple choice, and it got me thinking that as I was going through my motions of doing multiple choice tests (which I completely loathe these days), I told myself, "Ye Gods, I have a system. How sad is that?"

Yes, apparently, a system for going through multiple choice tests, and is as follows:

The goal is to run from one end of the test to the other as fast as possible, only answering what you can
If I know it immediately, the corresponding spot on the scantron is filled
If not, examine the question, see if the question and/or answers are wordy, and try to make an educated guess, or try to eliminate what I can
If I can't, then I mark down on my scantron with a small scribble what I think would be the most likely - this may range between 1 and 3 - this helps in case I need to rush in the last few minutes and don't have time to think.
I circle the number on the question page and cross out any eliminated answers to look at later
lather, rinse, repeat until I reach the end
start back at #1, then try to fill the rest in, taking my time.

If you can't figure out what the answer even remotely is, stop telling yourself you should've studied, and that bloodying the desk by slamming your head against it won't help your case. Though what I may suggest in the following may seem ... insane to do during a test, hey, if you don't know it and they you don't lose marks for guessing wrong, why not guess?

If you can't decide from any of them, look away and point to one at random, or what I do, hold my pencil going up and down against my options, look away, then move my pencil up and down until I stop, then take what's there.
if there are two possibilites left, think logically. If you can't, flip a coin, eraser, play rock-paper-scissors with the person beside you or something to figure out.

I take no responsibility for anyone doing this for real (besides myself), and it's your own darn fault for even trying to do anything I suggest, especially if it concerns something important. But it's damn fun, and the number of times you need to do this is a good indication of what you actually know (or think you know).

Although, looking back at this in hindsight, I shouldn't have said or typed a thing, and charged everyone to attend a class on taking multiple choice test stra by me. At least I could've made money. Oh well, what's done is done.

Funny coincidence of the day: at St. George subway station, they have posters up of the 10 girls in Canada's Next Top Model this year, and funny enough, all the girls that were eliminated (5 now) all have their faces plastered with a big red "X" to indicated they're gone. The strange thing is all of these 5 are on the Westbound side of the station. And they were always there, noone moved them whatsoever, they were the same since they were put up (don't ask how I would remember this. Really, don't ask). Strange, no?

I also bought Kelly Clarkson's new album, My December. It's not too bad, I probably just have to break it in by listening to it, but I'm sure Breakaway was better, though she's touched every song on this album. Oh, and go ahead and make jokes, but I won't be hurt, unless something like this happens to me.

No, I really bought it, take a looksee:

Kinda a shame noone even buys music anymore, that's why even Sam The Record Man is gone now. Most important thing is to vote with your money. If you take things like music or movies for free left and right, well, sure, your wallet is a little more full, but people who are trying to get some of that money are kinda gone. So, while I'm not saying buy everything at HMV, at least support your favourite artists, etc. by buying. I sound like a damn broken record saying it, but it's true, my naivete or not included. Or we could go utilitarian. Those guys sure have tons of fun.

Also, dumpy is an actual word. That would've helped me when I was trying to figure out that word in today's Jumble.

I hope everyone had a good Canada Day, maybe with a barbeque and everything, ending with watching some fireworks. I had to hold my face against the window with the lights off to make anything out from where I live and where my room faces. Happy 140, Canada.

Well, maybe next year...

2007-06-06T23:57:00.000-05:00

Well, too bad for Ottawa, because they'll have to try again next year. If you're a Sens fan (you know who you all are, since there are so few of you), you might feel angry, distraught, betrayed, or other feelings. Do not fret, because you shall know the true value of telling yourself, "maybe next year"**. All the Leafs fans (like me) do it.

I, too, am feeling distraught, frustrated and betrayed, but not because of the Sens. I only watched the games because it was hockey, and I didn't root for either team, because who wants to cheer for Ottawa? And who wants to cheer for Anaheim in a room full of "Go Ottawa for the cup"-bandwagoners? I'm not that crazy. Well, let's just say it has something to do with the next SimCity, and how it's pissing off the community. Oh well, it seems we're going to stick with SimCity4. I am.

This week, my bio class has proven it actually has a sense of humour. Also, I'd like to have this down when I'm senile, old, grey haired and suffering from arthritis in my toes to read and dream about the "good 'ol days". A lecture on human evolution covered a part on sexual selection and the thesis of this book. It was quite a laugh to learn that females like guys with bigger brains (wait, did I italisize the wrong word again?) through the evolution of the human brain, so things like sense of humour completely outweighs things such as "he looks like and has the build of a pool boy or the man on the cover of a sappy romance novel". It apparently works both ways these days, but I always had a thing for smart and funny girls. ;)

Also, my lab manual is completely hilarious. According to exerpts of the lab instructions (especially more fun when reading this part completely out of context):

"Do not mate until instructed to do so by your instructor"
"Choose any student in the calss to mate with. Mates need not be of the opposite sex. You are completely promiscuous and cannot reject any suitor"

I nearly broke down and cried from laughter.

**Actual delusions sold seperately.

It's (going to be) a cruel summer

2007-05-29T09:48:00.000-05:00

It's not even June 21st, and Mother Nature has decided to gear up to make my life just a little worse between now and until I die.

Oh, and yes, the title is pretty much ripped from the line of the song Cruel Summer.

I may have been born in Hong Kong, but for the record (for about the 237th time), I was born there, but it doesn't make me any more tolerant to heat, even if it should have. Humid hot is the worst - the air is heavy and wet, you're all sticky and you're struggling for each breath. Mother Nature's chokehold just about suits this phenomenon, and she probably wrestles too. It isn't made anymore comfortable by the fact my room is just above the garage. Roof shingles are generally asphalt-y, and asphalt, being black-coloured, absorbs light, gets all hot, and I can probably see the wavy lines during high noon. The window faces the direction the wind blows, so I get no wind. That is, my window opens to the right. Conveniently, the wind blows from the west, which is obviously my right. Entertaining as it is, even if my room were converted into a meat locker, it'd still be warmer than any other room in the house, plus, heat rises. Damn physics, I've been had again by you.

This means I've always liked to relocate into the basement, or the family room (I'd call it a den, but it's far from one) until the sun sets. During the long, hot days of summer, sleeping on the couch is a luxury (particularily because I'm not married and have a wife force me down there for thinking/doing/being stupid). I do wish pillows had more sides though, because as soon as that side you're resting on is warm, you switch it over. But what happens when you have to switch it again? That "still cooling down" feeling.

And to touch on the subject again regarding women's summer ... appearance (for lack of a better word). It's been pointed time in, time out - they dress as if to be stared at, but any bit of staring results in either a slap to the face, a eye full of pepper spray, a combination of both, or in the extremely rare case, a Hadouken. Now, for some women, that's not too bad, for some others, looking one way means you look regardless, especially in ... closer quarters. Not that close, but it's quite hard to concentrate with the fairly revealing top and the short skirt/shorts, especially if she is sitting in front of you. But as I said, close, but not that close. But close enough.

Here's a start for the summer season. I wouldn't say I've made anything of myself yet (or ever), but I've done something for myself. I cleaned my room. This is because I have a spiffy, new 19" monitor. I cleaned my desk to make room for it, which led to cleaning most of the rest of my room. I emphasize clean beacause, first, it is not infact entirely clean. I do not refer to the location and presense of the unavoidable villain, dust, but rather because I simply ... haven't finished cleaning my room. It was going to be my Mother's Day gift, but it's still a work in progress, and only 6-year-olds use this for a Mother's Day gift. Don't ask what I got for my mother, because I didn't. Wait, did I just say that out loud? Crap.

Secondly, my room is not clean in another sense, because I follow the Law of Conservation of Mess. Yes, I'm taking a shot at you, physics. An eye for an eye. Though it's not as equal as it should be. The law of conservation of mass states no matter can be created or destroyed. So, the same applies for messes, or if you really want to make this a real scientific law, use the word "disorganizationalification", because it sounds more sciencey. I may clean my room, but as I do, someone's room is getting more "disorganizationalificated". So, if you see/have a half-clean room (or half-dirty), it might be because of me. You can't defy physics, but I just made it work in my favour.

Waking up early is good

2007-05-15T08:28:00.000-05:00

It's a terrible afflication, I enjoy waking up early, unlike most people at my age. I hope it's not contagious like the flu. Or snoring. But I never did mind waking up early, it's just that until recently I never did because of staying up until 3 AM every night, which meant I crawled out of bed around 10 or 11 AM. So I told (or promised for you optimistic weirdos) to go to bed early so I could get up earlier. Again. It worked, and it wasn't a New Years Resolution, because those always end up being broken, and that's also why I never make any.

On the subject of dreams, I get really weird ones, but the strangest I get are dreams involving me and mere acquaintances getting along all chum-chummy like, which is weird, because that contradicts the whole point of being 'meh' friends/acquaintences. I wish there was surgery for this, I'm sure I'd pay good money to get rid of it.

I'm still stuck on the fence if I should have breakfast before or after brushing my teeth. I like the freshness in my mouth before I eat something, but then again, I'm getting my mouth all full of food after waking up and washing it. And also, toothpaste, especially with that weird minty flavour, makes some of my food taste weird, especially my morning Frutopia, makes it all sour because of - I don't remember the science behind it but it means I have to wait (which means I get more hungrier) so my food doesn't taste like it came out of the rear end of a sub-saharan African animal. Pick any one, I really don't care.

Okay, Spiderman 3, I'm sure everyone's watched it by now, and - I really don't care what everyone (most other people) thought, I thought it was pretty good, but with a villain like Venom, they didn't really satisfy the really hardcore Spidey fans - I watched the old Marvel cartoons back in the day - so I didn't really like their interpretation of Venom, so comic book fans may be more ticked off but I thought it was a good movie regardless. There are worse movies out there.

Oh, and until you've watched the movie, just because the Symbiote is black and Peter's hair is down "emo" style, he is far from emo; womanizing is far from an emo characteristic. Neither is this:

On the subject of superheroes, who has watched NBC's Heroes? Unlike most other people, I didn't jump on the bandwagon onto a very successful show halfway in, I was in from the start - heck, before the start, I watched the leaked pilot in July or August (first episode). I remember seeing a promo or two in June/July, googled it, thought to myself, "Sci-fi is finally going to make it in prime time", considering there were some the year before that didn't do so well.

If you haven't watched Heroes though, you better find some way to catch up for the second season in September with the finale next Monday. Do it or you might find yourself waking up missing some vital organs or extremities. (Disclaimer: I really didn't mean that, in case you're deciding to call 911 or not but pretend I didn't say this.) One other show I'm planning on watching is Gilmour Girls, since the series is over (as in no more, that's it - kaput) I don't have to worry about catching up before September when it would've aired again. But 7 seasons is alot to go through.

Oh, and I have a Wii. More on that later.

Free and Dumb

2007-05-03T19:43:00.000-05:00

Free, dumb? Freedom? Get it? I thought you wouldn't, and there's two reasons why. Either I'm too smart for everyone, or everyone's just too dumb.

Free - I am now free (give or take a week) before I go back to classes, or more accurately, summer school. Luckily, I don't feel as bad because most of the people I bumped into or know are actually taking summer courses (albeit not mine, everyone planned ahead to avoid me). It's only 2 days a week, but for 6 hours, which is twice the amount of classes per week of lectures in a regular year. Oh, and ther regular year is twice as long as the summer "year". So twice the work in half the time, I'm going at 4 times the speed, baby! So much for free. Unless I stick to old habits, I guess I am... for 5 of 7 days of the week.

Dumb - What I do is empty out my brain from whatever I remembered after a test or exam, and just forget about it. No point in worrying about what you wrote on a test because you're not getting it back until it's marked. Unless you called your TA a(n) [expletive of choice], or any "offenses" to your TA (my History TA said she'd personally lower your marks for calling the Middle Ages the Dark Ages, but only because that's her specialty). So, right now, I'm done exams and I'm letting my grey matter liquify (in fact, my Psych test had a question on grey matter, I don't think I got that question right). In fact, if I didn't know any better, my brain failed halfway through the exam.

Funny story with today's exam, apparently the "place of higher learning", calling itself the University of Toronto, couldn't crunch a bunch of simple numbers - when everyone arrived for the exam and entered the exam room, well, it just so happened there weren't enough seats. But I'm not talking about 4 or 5 people, more like 30 or so. Give or take 30 people didn't have a seat at the original intended exam room, so I and alot of other people, including a few people I met during labs, had to march halfway across campus to another room to write the exam. Wasn't that great either, it was dimmed lecture hall, and when I say lecture hall, it also means uncomfortable chairs and crappy makeshift tables. Writing an exam for three hours - those are horrible conditions. At least the original exam room had actual tables and chairs, even though the room seemed to be some kind of church hall, so lighting was just as bad.

Okay, I'm getting hungry, which means I need to make dinner, because my sister, who was tasked with making dinner, like everyone else she is tasked with, seems to forget to do it because she's a moron. So it looks like I'm up to bat. Because I'd rather not starve even when I'm free, poetic as it sounds.

Talking to air

2007-05-02T10:27:00.000-05:00

Holy crap he's back so soon! Holy crap!

Okay, don't panic.

Talking to air, my specialty, but not me this time. Well, from the beginning, I rushed out the door around 12:30 with my hastily typed up 26 page long and annotated timeline worth 1000 years or so of European history. Exam, of course. Anyways, I hop on the bus to the subway station, and sometime between Main Street and Bloor stations, this girl sits down beside me. No problem, the guy took the seat, so she's forced to sit beside me. I assumed she wasn't in highschool because she has a metropass. Ok, so like I cared past that, I was trying to go through the Reformation again in my notes.

She pops out a drink from the corner of my eye. Looks like chocolate milk or something. Whatever. She downs it a few times, then all of a sudden, she goes "Oh, so smooth and creamy.". But there's noone else there. I was about to believe she was on the phone (oh Bluetooth, how many people you've made to look insane), but obviously what rest I heard wouldn't amount to telephone banter even for two Japanese immigrants trying to speak English through the phone the first day in learning English. So, back to figuring out what the hell Martin Luther did again, then again, she starts going on some jibber jabber, just trying to say some nonsense into air. Obviously, there's noone she came with, she's just talking straight at her. A real basketcase.

Too bad though, my stop was coming up, and I was busy studying, so I couldn't possibly try to outcrazy her. Wasn't ready, didn't have anything lined up, so I just got up and waited for my stop. I'm pretty sure she was high on something, but just enough not to accidentally walk onto the rails before the train pulled into whatever station she got on, because I would've probably been late for my exam. Plus that's an unfair advantage, I have to channel out my sane, rational, lucid thoughts to be crazy while she just has to sniff or pop whatever and does it. It's like using steroids in the Olympics, it's an unfair advantage.

Two down, two to go

2007-04-29T12:12:00.000-05:00

The only thing about exam season I don't like is that I don't really get much studying done. Let's look at some examples, or actually, what I did for the first two exams I wrote already:

Psych 100 on Wednesday - read all my notes, did some questions in the study guide the day before the exam. I was hoping the study guide would do me some good, and it did, considering I found I could answer more than "Name" on the scantron sheet without having to guess. But multiple choice is a doozy for such a course that apparently used to be a full year and got "promoted" to being a half course with the same content - i.e. learning twice as fast, which is something I haven't or don't hope to master.

Poli Sci 103 on Friday - reread the entire text, went over my notes - which didn't amount to much, just in-class slide notes for 80% of the time - and went over them again. This was the night before - I will define "The night before" as from 4PM the day before to 2AM the day of, with multiple breaks inbetween lasting 15 to 30 minutes. Come exam day, it was a 3 hour exam full of writing - the most B.S.'ing I've had to do in a long time; writing essays in an hour isn't exactly one of my fortes so I pretty much skipped anything conventional about essays. I did that last test and I didn't get penalized for it. I love getting away with things. I'll admit, it all made sense after I finished studying, because I didn't pay attention in class for the most part. Content is interesting indeed, but I'm no longer interested in politics.

Upcoming matches:

Me vs History 109, or remember 1000 years of European History (the course says something like 1300-1945, but we all know history doesn't happen in a bubble, so it rounds up and down to around 1000CE - Sept 10, 2001). Tuesday! TUESDAY! TUESDAY! 2-5PM, more exam writing, but I like history, so this won't feel much of a chore ... as long as I start studying, considering I already skipped Friday afternoon (yeah right) and all of Saturday (because it's Saturday regardless).

Me vs. Organic Chem/Chem 138: Thursday Morning. This sounds like fun because I already did another chem exam for the first half (CHM139), but numbers aside, this is pretty much all concepts. My cousin argues this is harder and number crunching is easier, but he loaths physics because it is both conceptual and number crunching at once. Good thing I pulled out of Grade 12 physics when I had (the first week). Chem though, it's not too tough - even though I didn't do exceptionally well on the previous tests, I don't really want to worry since it's the same process I've done before for quite a while. I won't worry. At least not yet.

Maybe I really should start studying.

Easily Distracted

2007-04-19T03:40:00.000-05:00

First off, I'd like to offer my deepest condolences to everyone in the Blacksburg, Virginia area and all the students of Virginia Tech, from one student to another.

I say this out of sincerity, not to fit into the norm or sound repetitive or to make a point, something witty or sardonic. It was a tragedy, and it would be less than human to do otherwise, but some people have found these tragedies make perfect situations to forward their political agendas.

I'll say it now, F--- politics. Nothing good comes out of it without something bad along with it.

Okay, so now that that's settled, let's proceed on a lighter tone, or, the usual around here.

Obviously, I didn't expect any comments from my last post because noone ever actually comments, it's exam season for universities, and frankly, that was a pretty crappy title.

On the subject of exam season, from reading various MSN names, it seems everyone who doesn't go to U of T seems to be almost rid of the curse they call exams. So, I expect comments (not really) considering everyone else will be done. Myself? They start on the week of the 23rd (next week), 2 that week, 2 the week after. But then, what am I doing here, I may ask? While you're at it, ask why you're here. Hit that "Next Blog" button if I'm really giving off some strange vibe (it's not my B.O., I just had a shower).

Easily distracted, I am. First exam is on Wednesday next week, then the next on Friday, Tuesday and Thursday, and what do I have to show for it? Well, I'm writing this? Maybe practice? Other than that, I've been doing anything other than studying, even when I'm bored in and out of my skull, I really want to find something other than start the studying process. I'll never be free considering I'll be in perpetual learning this summer. Summer courses sound fun until you find out you're doing twice the amount of work in half the amount of time. Yippie?

Honestly, I have no idea what I'm more afraid of this time of year, learning (or in some cases, re-learning) all that information, containing it in my brain to write down into something coherent in 3 hours, or having to do that with regular washroom breaks due to coffee and Frutopia.

Let's just hope I don't get distracted again ... oh, a pink kite ... wait, at 3:30 in the morning? The insomnia must be wearing off. Let's hope I don't get distracted to write another one of these. For all our sakes.

Untitled

2007-04-10T15:01:00.000-05:00

So, another Tuesday afternoon, and that would mean another wasted day due to evening classes. Fortunately, this is the last week of classes, and even more fortunate for me that I have nothing good to do, so I thought I’d scribble down this week’s ramblings and schizophrenic thoughts down for the whole wide (web) world to ignore. I actually couldn’t think of a title, maybe because I have no work left to do, so I’m letting my mind relax too hard and my organizational skills have been taken out to the woods and shot, Old Yeller style. So, in my nerdom, I do what Windows does, call it untitled until you give it a name. But I’ll leave it as such.

I’m also on campus, so I’m typing this on Word, because, although I don’t give 3/8ths a damn what anyone thinks of me, I don’t want to look pretentious, and have people walk by only to say “What a(n) [expletive].”, because I know you know, I don’t need to hear it from you; so it’s only a matter of a quick copy and paste, and I look as if I’m busy. Not that you needed to know.

Here’s a funny thing I do when I write this, I essentially devote all attention to the task at hand, and that’s probably the only time I actually do it. So well, in fact, I may forget what I was going to write if I don’t stop and slap myself across the face. (Truth: I do in fact, do this) I don’t write this down because I can do this all from memory. At least I think I can. But the fact is, if it’s worth remembering, I’ll remember it. At least when I look back when I’m 246 (yes, I’ll last that long, and that is if I haven’t stopped writing for no one, the fun of it all), I’ll remember what I need to remember, just maybe reinforced in words than in fuzzy memory.

Okay, let’s move on.

First off, Hockey is over in Toronto. Hockey-mecca has hockey end prematurely, for the second year in a row now, because we didn’t make the playoffs. If you’re a Senators’ fan (you know who you are), don’t you dare rub it in. You’re just lucky we’re not there to completely annihilate you when we get to you guys anyways. Consider your team lucky. Very lucky. Lucky indeed. And I hope Pittsburgh kicks your butt. That being said, “Go Canucks” … at least until they get eliminated.

Summer school is going to be interesting, because I need to think of what to do for summer school. No, don’t get started on “Kelvin, you need a job you stupid hippie”, I know that for a fact, and I’ll get … right … on it. (That means I won’t) I won’t even try to rationalize why I don’t have a job yet, because anything I say is purely irrational. Anyways, back to summer school: Four more months stuck on campus, but less time spent in classes, because no sane person (and me) would do anything close to a full course load. Not under that hot summer sun. In those hot, humid sweaty conditions. So damn hot, and distracting, and that’s just the heat.

New tangent – summer, and why I don’t really like it. Sure, holidays and all that, but first, I’ll be stuck in summer school (for my own ‘benefit’, I suppose), and not only is the heat and humidity distracting (I’m not a summer person, you may have guessed). I’m more a winter person; I like the cold, or just the cool, as long as it’s dry as well (and dry heat is slightly more tolerable). And the ladies? I like them all year around (I’d better), but I prefer them in the winter than in the summer. In the summer, they wear next to nothing, and as much as I like that, I like it when they wear more. Layers, bulk, hoods, fur boots, that kind of stuff. Maybe I really am mentally ill, can you name any other male on this planet that would admit the same, picking puffy winter coats and sweaters over low cut spaghetti straps, short skirts and thongs sticking out of jeans? I didn’t think so.

Quick sidenote though, women do crazy things. I won’t list them all; this’ll be short, just some things I’ve remembered. I’ve actually walked downwind of someone who had perfume that smelled like cookie dough, or playdoh (or something similar). Now that’s strange considering it’s usually some fruit scent or weird, yet pleasant aroma. Second, I’ve seen someone, … how do I describe this … applying mascara on the subway. I don’t know what leads some women to do this but I won’t even put something with an even more blunt of a point near my eyes in any moving vehicle. And I wear glasses too.

Anyways, I’ve taken quite a shine (that really doesn’t sound right, so I’ll use it) to playing SimCity again. I’ve never played the first one, but I’ve spent (or wasted) a few good years playing SimCity 2000 and 3000, and now I’m moving onto 4. Funny enough, SimCity 4 is, well, 4 years old, but still has a pretty large online community that seems pretty friendly. Guess it pays when you don’t play with violent games; everyone seems so helpful all of a sudden. I’ve seen people put together some amazing looking cities, and I’m having fun losing a good amount of my time (before crunch time) playing. Who knows, maybe I’ll eventually do something successful one day, even if it’s just in a video game. I don’t have any desire to start going into urban planning, but who knows? I sure don’t, but it’d be pretty funny to see me help start planning the layout of the city. It’d be a total disaster.

And then we reach crunch week. I don’t have anything fun to say or anything to use against me here, but if you’re reading this (again, probably not, but I’d like to entertain that thought – that may have rhymed without my knowledge), you’re either not busy enough, or you’re done, and with that, I curse your schedule for being much better than mine. And if you’re not taking summer school, you’d better be earning good money, because it’s likely I won’t be.

See you after the dust settles.

The Oncoming Storm

2007-03-24T17:45:00.000-05:00

What is The Oncoming Storm? Why did I capitalize it? Is it something famous? Maybe. It has one meaning, but through habit that they teach you to do in school since forever now, there's bound to be more than one meaning for something, whether you can find an actual connection or not. Ah, the beauty of English class. And I shall deliver, if only out of habit. See, school is good for you.

Saturday, March 31st is when the next season of Doctor Who airs. He is this Oncoming Storm you've been hearing about last paragraph. If you don't know what Doctor Who is, in a nutshell, it's a British Sci-Fi series about a guy with 13 lives that travels time and space with human companions in a spaceship diguised as a police box, and yes, it's bigger on the inside. Even his pockets. It's been going on since 1963, yep, that's right, before we were born. Granted, I'm not British, nor do I have BBC One, but I have my ways to watch it some time after they do. I mean, it is the Internet.

Oliver, if you're reading this, I've given you about a week's notice. You should be watching this, studying in London and all. You want to fit in? Watch Doctor Who. You'll probably fit in more than trying to "fake" British by using words like "bruvva" and "oi" - in fact, stop acting like a chav in general. Yes, that's right, stop acting like a chav.

On that note, I myself am also technically British. I was born in Hong Kong before China got it back, so wouldn't that mean I'm technically British?

More "oncoming storms" ... yes, I have two tests next week. It's crunch time again, and just imagine I'll tell you how much I don't study. Because I hate repeating myself. I hate repeating myself. I just hate it. Repeating myself. Oh, how I hate repeating myself.

Off on another tangent and to a more interesting topic: Glasses.

I recently got another "upgrade". By upgrade it means I still have my original eyes, just new glasses. Rather than be some ol' plain jane, I decided to pick a different style. No, just a tad more riskier, not horn-rimmed or anything. Semi-rimmed! I would've liked alternating rims on top and below for each side, but, like I said, nothing too risky. Yet.

So, care to see my new coke bottles? No? Yes? It doesn't matter, it's not the circus freakshow. I give you the World premiere of my face on the Internet in ... a long time. If you already know what I look like, it's not much of a big surpise. I put a nice simple Before/After picture to get your minds in order in case you're nuttier than I am. And without futher ado:

OH MY GOSH THE RIMS WHERE HAVE THEY GONE? (Well, half of them at least)

And yes, personal hygene out the window; that is, I always forget to shave. Oh, and I'm hideous, so I don't have to worry about any stalkers. If they only knew...

Another funny incident about glasses though (scroll down if you really can't stand my face, I even gave you the extra blank space for that, aren't I nice, at least?) happened just this Thursday. On the streetcar on the way to class, I was standing beside this ... let's just put it this way, he was probably weirder than me on some levels. He was wearing glasses, but he wasn't at the same time. He was, how shall I put it, wearing just the frames. Yes, no actual lenses, so that must mean either contacts or he's faking intelligence. But not that, because his frames were purple. And plastic. How did I know he didn't have any lenses? Well, there was no reflection or distortion if you looked at them. And how did I stare long enough to deduce that? He was on the phone... which is also strange, who do you talk to during the morning commute, now that is a mystery.

Dial 61 For Murder

2007-03-12T23:56:00.000-05:00

Strangely enough, or rather, not really, since it is me we're talking about, I fall into a minority? Minority there too, yes. But 61 and change on an organic chem test. This is the minority. The majority apparently, through some quick scanning of test scores, falls somewhere from 20-40%. Of course, I'm somewhat disappointed with a 61%, not because I'm super-duper yellow in any case that I only believe in numbers between 9x10 and 10x10, but it could've been better. I can only imagine how many people nearly committed suicide on getting their tests back, though. An amusing thought at times. At least I beat the average, which was an appalling 59.6%, but since I beat it, I am technically above average, so take that.

I'm not a real conversationalist (considering the amount I type each time you visit when I decide to expel something new out of my mind - where do I make up this crap anyways? I don't know.), but through just sheer force of sitting there and listening to what other people have to say while I do nothing else (strange I don't have a girlfriend right? She could complain to me all day and I'd just listen and actually listen... unless hockey's on. Then she needs to shut up.) I've concluded that the professors at U of T are here to screw us over. The chem test was pretty fair, except for the part where the test questions are extremely disproportionate to the work they give you. And the quizes too. Man, the quizes I get are such jokes, you should be stoned for not getting near-perfect or perfect on those things. The homework - I swear to you, I did so much of the homework to prep for the first test - and this is weeks before the test - because I didn't do that last semester and I paid for it. So I expect my dues for being so diligent. 61% is apparently my reward. Sheesh.

Let's put it into perspective. Let's take grade 2 math (or something). The quizes practically ask "Jimmy, what's 1+1?" and the textbook questions range from questions of "Jimmy, what's 2+3?" or "Jimmy, what's 3x3?" The test then asks "Jimmy, derive this using first principles: [huge equation]". Sounds fair, no?

Next? Ah yes. Just last week I proved the expression "third time's the charm" false. Again. No, not with those girls sitting in Psych 100, I didn't get rejected 3 times ... yet. It's R-R-R-R-R-Roll-up-the-Rim season again in Canadianistan (and laughing at those who can't R-R-R-R-R-Roll their tongues), and this is when I pay just under 1.50$ in a vain attempt for a bigger return. Yes, I can read, chances are 1 of 9, but I simply don't care. Not even a free doughnut, which isn't even breaking even. Well, at least I get a hot chocolate out of it -- THAT'S RIGHT, I don't drink coffee. I'm probably insane enough to keep me afloat through the wee hours of the night (i.e. right now), so the sugar is enough for me. And the chocolate. Don't even get me started with chocolate, I swear I seemed to have adopted some strange relation to chocolate, as if I were a female, but only with chocolate. It seems like it's the disability I have to live with. Wonder if I can get those handicap spots?

On my two final papers I have to do. One is due today, Monday, the other, tomorrow, or Tuesday. Well, I finished my history paper and proved my TA wrong. Who needs to have all this time to take notes, and sort through all your information, and outline. I did all my research in 5 days over 3 weeks (i.e. Every Sunday that I'd remember, and the occasional Saturday). Paper was written in less than 12 hours, but only because I had so much fun doing it, and getting distracted from writing it. And because I have to hand in everything, and multiple pointless rough drafts makes your paper look better. So I proved my TA wrong. At least until she proves me wrong by marking it. Pray it's not a 61. At least we had fun discussing the movie 300, history on film, then a bunch of other crazy thing during tutorial.

PoliSci, oh jeez, what can I say - I'd drop the course if it wasn't too late and I'd get a 0. And it's an evening class. So it looks like it's going to be like being violated by your cellmate, just take it, because you'll be out soon. The paper I have to write is 2200 words based on a limited number of sources. So that means I'll have to do what I did last Poli Sci paper ago, go on a quoting spree. I'll spare no paragraphs just to fill up word count limits. Asking for two 10-page papers in a first year course sounds like a insurmountable amount of work to me, even if this is probably the biggest BS course you could ever have. Family Guy last night got it right - people who sit in coffeehouses and type on their laptops (and discuss politics - my addition) look like real idiots. Especially ones who write blogs on politics.

I think I'll stop trying to be anti-politics. We all have agendas, don't we? Some of us are just more ambitious than others, and I go on the low end of that scale. Otherwise I'll turn this into another political blog, and those are boring, and I'd rather not have that anytime EVER here, because those are a dime a dozen on the Internet nowadays.

So, now that I've finished sounding bitter and everything, where does that put me on my other paper? Nowhere. I haven't started. It's due in ... well, maybe 30 hours. But that's not enough time if you subtract sleep, commute, eating, factor in the amount of lazy I can pull off in one day, plus the fact that there's only a slight grade reduction for handing it in late. It's about 5% a day at most. Before the end of the week. I hope. Wow, I wish I got deals that good. I mean, there's no way I can hand it in, or even make sense of it in less of a day. I'll try, I mean it, but I won't make any promises, cause that's not how I roll unless you are extremely attractive. For starters.

So why am I wasting my time writing pointlessness when I could be learning? Gods, it's 3:40AM at this sentence (the day before - yes, I even come back and look over my draft before I let you all read it - commence gasping), and I already finished a paper, I think I deserve a break, even if I did waste Friday and Saturday telling myself to start.

And on that note, I'm tired. Of alot of things.

Excuses

2007-02-25T02:41:00.000-05:00

Well, I've done it again.

This week was Reading Week, or as I like to call it, early March Break.

Here's the problem. A whole week off. Let's skip past the plesantries and formalities where I complain about everything I usually complain about, because I think I've repeated myself enough times to not get any point across. Straight to the point - well, there wasn't one, at least not for me. You could say I'm lazy, or too relaxed, or maybe I had a lobotomy just recently. If you can't be damned to remember anything I have to say (something I'm probably better at than you, ha!), let's recap what I have coming into the week of February 26th:

1) Organic chem test on Tuesday
2) Organic chem lab report due, prelab due Thursday
3) History research paper, due mid March
4) PoliSci paper, due mid March (heck, the day after #3)

Okay, now let's make some context. Here's how my Reading Week broke down:

The Friday before - I picked up, maybe, 8 books from Robarts (the biggest Arts library at UofT) to pull as much information out for my history paper that I'd do during Reading Week.
Monday: Didn't get anything done, but I'd like to think I tried. For about 5 minutes, then I told myself I'd start on Tuesday. Still too 'fresh' from the weekend.
Tuesday: Did nothing. Told myself Wednesday would be a good time to start working. Harder.
Wednesday: I totally forgot about doing any work.
Thursday: realized the impending doom if I didn't study, or do any research if I didn't start now. But I didn't do it anyways.
Friday: See Thursday, but multiply impending doom by 8 and put it to the power of your shoe size.
Saturday: Told myself I have to start now. START NOW DAMNIT. I didn't start.
Sunday: As I'm writing this, it's Sunday, 2:50AM, because I had better things to distract me during the day. For about 7 days now. And what am I doing ... writing this entry! Just to prove I'm easily distracted and I just can't be damned to do any work.

Next on the agenda of - well I don't have an agenda; I write this ad lib. Almost always. So what's on my head right now? Oh yes, I remember now.

If you haven't noticed, I finally caved in to pressure (okay, not really, but pretend I did), and I signed up to FaceBook. At the moment, I pretty much have no friends, so it's pretty indicative of how all 19 years of my life have been. So, for anyone who's willing to make me a friend on the basis that I knew you from somewhere, go right ahead. It's all a friend contest anyways, that FaceBook is. It's consoling to know people I knew from high school, I can still find some way of contacting them if I feel like creeping them out. That being said, I just have FaceBook there for the sake of it, at least for now. At least I won't look weird if someone asks me if I have a FaceBook and awkwardly answer 'No'.

Lastly, a strange rant which makes me feel like I understand something. What I did during my Reading Week was spend all Tuesday catching up with The Office (the U.S. one, not the British one). I personally prefer watching TV shows, well, on the TV instead of on my computer, even if I can get episodes after they air with commericals edited out. Or maybe I just need a more comfy seat and a bigger monitor to change my opinion. That being said, catching up with a half-hour show isn't too hard (about 22 minutes each episode). What gets hard is trying to marathon a drama series more than a season which are full-hour episodes (about 45 minutes). Honestly, if I had a month without naggy parents (i.e., all the free time in the world), enough hard drive space, or even enough money to buy the box sets, I would love to catch up (i.e. start from the beginning) and watch Gilmour Girls. Don't ask why or how, but I would really like to if there weren't 6 or 7 seasons to trek through. It just caught me when I watched a few episodes. Don't mistake, I still like my share of door kicking, gunfights and explosions.

Maybe that's why people give me funny looks when I tell them I watch Desperate Housewives. It's not particularily too soap opera-y, and mostly tries to stay in the comedy end, so it does a good job of keeping me hooked.

Lastly, some good news for a show I thought was cancelled, Six Degrees, is coming back on the air starting at the end of March. The reason it took almost a half-year break is because noone seems to want to watch it. It's not like 24 with the explosions, gunfights, or probably anything virtually appealing to most people, but I guess I fit into that strange niche. Anyways, the idea of the show, boiled down, is about six New Yorkers that somehow influence each other every day, either directly or indirectly - based on the theory of six degrees of seperation. Doesn't sound at all interesting, but I encourage you to watch it, it's absolutely delightful (for lack of a better word) to see how things work out amongst the characters. I dunno, maybe I'm just strange, because most of you (out of a maximum of probably 12 people who might actually read this) will scoff at my opinion (not the first time) and continue on. But, it's just relaxing to watch something fairly grounded but with a twist to it. If you have any doubts, J.J. Abrams is part of the production, - if you're a Lost fan (I, myself, gave up halfway into the 2nd season), you would know who that is, and you should show your support by watching Six Degrees when it airs again.

Well, I'm reaching the end of my ad-libbed blogmorgrification you would otherwise identify as a blog entry, and for me, that is where the fun ends and reality takes hold again. Apart from doing this, it seems some like some divine being set my life to the 'totally screwed' setting and is just letting it run. And I wouldn't doubt if it's been like that since day 1. How do I make up for a week of not doing any work? Because unless someone has a time machine, I'm definately screwed.

Loneliness, Valentine's Day, Coincidence?

2007-02-13T00:22:00.000-05:00

Well, it's that time of year again. Like every other holiday, people say that, don't they? For about 99% of the people that spend most of their time on the Internet, this is yet another day to show that they're lonely bums. And, obviously, you assume I'm part of that group. Assume all you like. Of course, most of them will dismiss the idea of being lonely on Valentine's Day anyways (yes, that's what we're talking about, if you just tuned in).

Unfortunately, trying to find someone to spend Valentine's Day with isn't as simple as spamming "LFG" in the shout channel until someone says yes. If you actually understood that and you weren't born with a penis (under normal circumstances) and relatively easy on the eyes (I'll be the judge of that myself), be sure to look me up. If you did not get that without looking up LFG on urbandictionary.com (the first definition), then I hate to say it, you're probably out of my league. Not as an insult to your person, but I don't think women can just sit there and listen to what men (I use that term loosely to include those that spend all your time playing World of WarCraft - luckily I don't - take note of that) have to say and try to block us out; I know we can, effortlessly, I might add, but I doubt you would be able to stand us talking about our "uber gear" or about our Blackrock Spire raids went so well and discuss how we should've been "main tank" with our skill build. You'd be bored to death. I would be too. Okay, that's my nerd paragraph done. Good Gods, I thought I'd never be able to finish that.

I actually have much to say about loneliness, or I could just be mistaken and am being misled. Maybe a I should somehow, through my vast knowledge of all things technical-like, keep track of the number of people who bother to waste their time and bandwidth coming here to read what I have to say (i.e. incoherent babbling). Unless the small handful of people who do are busy this time of the year (myself included, though I make myself to appear otherwise), I'm just typing for the sake of either to satiate my insomnia or for the sake of giving myself the illusion of feeling I have any real reason and meaning in the Information Age by doing this, even if I am relegated to the fringes of the Internet in comparison to ... about everyone else.

Or maybe I'm just snappy because noone comments anymore, even though I said I didn't give half of a quarter of a damn if you did or didn't. Well, maybe I care, maybe I don't. But it seems like I proved reverse psychology wrong this time.

Reading Week starts next week, so maybe I'll find more time to say nothing, but in multiple paragraphs as usual. To noone, of course.

Sore throats, bad balancing acts, and general laziness

2007-01-23T15:22:00.000-05:00

Look at this! Sore throats, bad balancing acts, and more of my general laziness! Of course that means is that it's another time to laugh at my own expense. Apparently, Fortune only smiles upon me only when I am in pain and/or suffering. And then she bursts out in laughter. But no matter.

Before I start, a matter of paperwork. I'm pretty sure I'm talking to a brick wall (or whatever you can imagine me talking to, a Barbie doll, or Plato's ghost), but if anyone still reads this, from now on, I'm going to update my Personal Message on MSN. If it changes it means I wrote something not worth reading and put it up here for everyone to ignore, but you'll come and read it anyways, right? If you're not on my MSN, well, too bad, it probably means I don't/won't like you, and I generally avoid people (followed by blocking and deleting) who add me and never say a thing. (which is a difficult feat in itself)

Ok, so let's move on.

Saying these words hurt me more than you, literally:
Just last week, I got a sore throat. I think it's mother nature's way of telling to finally shut up. At least until Sunday. What I particularily hate is the beginning. You get this little itch, or this little sharp pain when you swallow, and eventually it gets worse throughout the day. That was just Tuesday. The first full day is the worst, when all you get is this searing, sharp pain in the back of your throat. All you sadists are probably smiling now. The only solution, of course, was to down enough water until all you have is your body passing water with each drink. Or shove a dagger down your throat and twist it to do the scratching. Whichever one works. I'm perfectly fine now (to your chagrin), as it passed by around the same week Friday, but it was quite the long week. And I still have this cough from the sore throat. A meaningless one, but a cough nonetheless.

Not born to be a trapeze artist:
Starting about a week and a half ago, I developped a bout of bad balance. It's as if someone misplaced my centre of gravity or something (you physics geeks could probably better explain it). Or it's just another intervention on whoever prayed hard enough to their gods, but I'm sure they all had their hand in it. On my way home one Friday, as the subway was coming to a halt, and not knowing my predicament, I decided to simply 'ride it out' as the train stopped - that's right, to Hell with holding onto anything! Well, as the train stopped, I flew from one end (which is really from the closest door) to the other end of the train, hitting the wall. Kinda like you see in cartoons. Luckily noone was hurt but me, and I did make a young woman laugh, but then again, you're all laughing too, at my expense. Don't worry, noone asked if I was okay.

Next incident happened on a Wednesday (if only my memory ever worked that well). Getting on the bus - I slipped. Nothing too bad, but gave me a little spook. Next, climbing up onto the elevated part of the bus - slipped, and if you can imagine it, I went flying forward and landed face first on a seat. When it came time to get off the bus on my stop ... you guessed it... I slipped. Of course, after the third one, I promptly yelled "NEW FEET", which, I guess, confused everyone. If anyone had given me a look, I would have continued with "I had feet transplants". Of course this is probably insulting to the actual people who lose their feet and only had prosthetics made, but what's a world without people getting offended? Even people like me need to be on the other side of the insult once in a while. So, lesson is, if you ever hear someone blame their falling on "new feet", it's probably me. Or one of my fans.

Okay, probably me.

Oh, and don't worry, noone asked me if I was okay.

General Laziness leads to more laziness:
To those who don't know what a video card is, it's a piece of computer hardware. But what I'm about to tell you isn't confusing or requires you to know the anatomy of a PC or about how I couldn't get circuit A to circuit B to activate breaker C and etc. Because I tried that. Okay I lied. It's almost been two weeks since this (rather expensive, 200$) "outdated" (as many of you would put it, but I think it still works perfectly fine) piece of hardware decided to die on me. Following this, two weeks of procrastination. Frankly, it's not much of a record, even for me, but this isn't homework, this isn't an assignment that's due in a week, or a project. In fact, I would rather put this hardware to use to do other things on my PC. What have I done in these two weeks? Caught up with most of my work. A travesty! I did not go to university to be as upstanding a student I was as I was in highschool! I need to get off my lazy bum and call tech support sometime. Maybe this week. Tomorrow...nah, the day after that. Ummm, Friday? I can't believe I'm procrastinating on something that would help me better procrasinate at something else.

Just remember to procrastinate.

And I'd like to add, as I am typing (or as you are reading) this line, I've put off posting this for about 4 days now (I'm dead serious here). Also, I'm finally ready to send my aforementioned item back to be fixed/replaced/repaired, except no postal services are open on Sundays. So, Monday. Well, maybe Tuesday, or Wednesday's always a nice day...

... am I doing it again?

And Good Riddance...

2006-12-31T15:45:00.000-05:00

Nope, I'm not done with this yet. So much to your dismay, or disappointment (or whatever strange feelings inside you may get), the only time I'll stop is when I'm on the lam. And I'm not... yet. Or at least I don't know if I am... am I?

Anyways, today is that day. The last of the last. Number 365. Day 365. And for 2006, good riddance, what a pretty pathetic year, if at most, tepid, or I'd like to define as 'meh'. Unfortunately that's all we can agree to, now if we could get some solution for world peace. But it's a start.

Now, rather than write out some convulted and horribly incoherent list, I have decided to simply point you in the direction of this Wikipedia article to tell how horrible 2006 was. And to start, it's just world events. Think about it. To quote the following, is the month of January. Read it, fall into a fetal position (thumb sucking optional), then soldier on to the next month. Repeat until December. Or scoff at Wikipedia. Some of you may. Go ahead.

January, a bad start to a bad year:

January

January 1 - Russia cuts natural gas to Ukraine over a price dispute.
January 2 - The Bad Reichenhall ice rink roof in Germany collapses after heavy snowfall in the Bavarian Alps, killing 15.
January 3 - Twelve deceased coal miners and 1 survivor are discovered in the Sago Mine Disaster near Buckhannon, West Virginia in the United States.
January 4 - Powers are transferred from Israeli Prime Minister Ariel Sharon to his deputy, Vice Prime Minister Ehud Olmert, after Sharon suffers a massive hemorrhagic stroke.
January 5 - A hotel in Mecca, Saudi Arabia collapses, killing 76 pilgrims visiting to perform hajj.
January 6 - The record-breaking 2005 Atlantic hurricane season officially draws to a close as Tropical Storm Zeta dissipates.
January 7 - Embroiled in multiple scandals, former U.S. House Majority Leader Tom DeLay announces he will not seek to reassume his former post.
January 7 - U.K. Liberal Democrat leader Charles Kennedy resigns after revelations that he has a drinking problem.
January 8 - A powerful, magnitude 6.9 earthquake epicentered off the coast of the Greek island of Kythera shakes much of Greece and is felt throughout the eastern Mediterranean basin. Only a few minor injuries and no significant damage are reported.
January 9 - The Dow Jones Industrial Average closes above 11,000 for the first time since June 7, 2001, closing at 11,011.90.
January 11 - The Augustine Volcano in Alaska erupts twice, marking its first major eruption since 1986.
January 12 - A stampede during the Stoning of the devil ritual on the last day at the Hajj in Mina, Saudi Arabia, kills 362 pilgrims.
January 14 - A natural gas explosion in a coal mine kills 8 in Romania.
January 15 - NASA's Stardust mission successfully ends, the first to return dust from a comet.
January 22 - Kobe Bryant of the Los Angeles Lakers scores 81 points in a regulation NBA game, second only to Wilt Chamberlain who scored 100 points on December 8, 1961.
January 23 - Stephen Harper wins the federal election in Canada, forming a minority government.
January 25 - Hamas wins the majority of seats in the Palestinian Legislative Council elections.
January 25 - Deus Caritas Est, the first encyclical of Pope Benedict XVI, is promulgated.
January 27 - Celebrations are held in Salzburg and around the world for the 250th anniversary of the birth of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.
January 28 - A trade hall roof collapses in Katowice, Poland, killing 65 people.
January 31 - Samuel Alito is sworn in as an associate justice of the Supreme Court of the United States.

Pretty crappy for the most part already, eh?

If you disagree, that's what the Comments are for. Or send me threatening email. That always works. Fan mail would be a first for me, be it hate mail or not. So go ahead, write! It doesn't have to be as clever as what I type (or it could be better, dazzle me, please), but as long as it looks like English, I just might as well read it.

But onto my 2006.

2006 for me meant I finished high school. The second semester wasn't all that bad, but I could've done better. My summer could've been better, as I'm still stuck on whether or not that we didn't go on a family vacation this summer was good or bad. Well summer ended, as they all do. And to everyone's surprise, the Spring of 2006, the University of Toronto admitted me. (Well, more like late May infact). Laugh it up all you want. I find it hilarious myself, when my parents kept lecturing me on how hard university would be to enter, ad infinitum. Well, maybe I applied to general arts. Maybe that's why. But I'll have to say physical chemistry really nailed my ass, along with the rest of this semester's students in CHM139H1. I didn't get much done from September to December 31st. 3 papers, alot of late nights up either doing work or not doing work and waking up Tuesdays, Thursdays and Fridays before the sun comes up to get downtown (and it will continue this semster).

Long complaint short: I hate Tuesdays, where I have essentially 10/12 hours of classes (U of T is open from 9AM to 9PM). Sounds like fun, right? Maybe in some sick, sadistic sort of way.

About my general laziness: I hate writing labs. I hate writing labs for a Tuesday because simply, I work myself to death on Tuesdays. And to you who think arts courses (e.g. English, history, etc) are bird courses or something, you have been lied to. And, oh how those labs infuriate me. (repetition is always good to get a point across, something I learned in history). Now's a good time to stop complaining.

Luckily, something good of this year can be salvaged in my advantage. TIME named me one of the People of the Year. I'm not kidding. Okay, so you're probably one too, but I'm more important because I'm doing this... unless you're doing this too. (i.e. blogging)

Here's hoping I get more done in 2007, such as being more diligent with my work, and getting it done early. Well, probably not. New Year's resolutions? Maybe to write real New Year's resolutions for 2008. Or 2009.

Happy 2007. In about 8 hours and 15 minutes. At least for the Eastern Time Zone...ers.

p.s. I turn 19 on the 5th, January. If that really matters at all. Or if anyone reads this at all.

Gearing up for Christmas

2006-12-18T10:55:00.000-05:00

Christmas. Yes, Christmas.

And if you seem offended, well, too bad. I celebrate Christmas. You can celebrate whatever, I really don't care. But more power to you. This is what I hate about people turning "Merry Christmas" into "Happy Holidays". What happened? I seem to remember a time that when you told it to someone they didn't care less if they celebrated it or not, but now it seems like it's some kind of racial slur. Tolerance has gone down, just noone sees it.

Anyways, I was never the politically correct type, you have to put so much effort into not offending anyone, but that's what I'm much better at. And besides, there were times when you didn't have to be politically correct. Ah, yesterday. All my troubles seemed to far away.

But to the matter of Christmas. It's not being ruined by the fact that (again) there are more rambling morons who insist if you wish someone a "Merry Christmas" and they don't celebrate you, you deserved to be lynched in the public square. No, it's not that fear of some bombing or anything. If you live in Toronto, you'd know.

THE SNOW IS MISSING. WHERE IS THE SNOW? I DO NOT KNOW.

But I know who does.

This is a travesty. A TRAVESTY. A week before Christmas and where is the snow? I blame global warming. Everyone, Americans, Western Infidels, Mexican illegal immigrants (or aliens for your politically correct nutcases), the Kyoto protocol, the Taliban, Al Qaeda, Kim Jong-Il, George Bush, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, the Smurfs, the Carebears, WHATEVER. Blame whoever you want for Global warming, but why do we have to suffer for it? I, myself, had only one other ... (I shudder at the thought) Green Christmas. Back when I was maybe 7? But that doesn't matter. I don't want another one. But maybe I know who to ask. I shall address it in the form of a letter because prayer service is probably backed up at this time of year. Did I give it away? Probably. Well, He can read it for Himself and maybe I'll make him feel guilty and it'll snow within the week. We don't live in freaking Arizona.

My letter is as follows:

Dear God,

Why hasn't it snowed in Toronto yet? Is this your cruel idea of punishing us? We would very much like a White Christmas, please. And those poor souls who run the snow plow fleet every year would like to see work themselves. See, I'm not at all inconsiderate and only think of my own intentions. So, to reiterate, please have it snow by Christmas in Toronto, because not only is it unnatural for a Green Christmas in Toronto, there are others who need to find work during the winters of our city. Otherwise, please forward this to the appropriate deity who controls the weather, whether global or over the assigned area of Southern Ontario.

Thanks,
Kelvin

Yes, I'm going to Hell, but I might as well make the most of it :)

Now, with a week coming up before Christmas, there's much to be done. I actually bought my parents Christmas presents. I won't say what but I bought them ahead of time (last week of November, first week December). Now all I have to do is wrap them. And that is a difficult task for a guy. I'll admit it, but I'm willing to learn, only because I don't want to pay someone to do it. Also, I paid for these gifts myself, but I'll be nice and put my little brother's and sister's names on the tags anyways. Only because I should. What does that mean?

Me: Hey Winnie (sister), do you have 20$, help me pay for Christmas presents for the folks. Then we won't look like the bloodsucking leeches we are for at least a day.
Sister: NO.

Now I have a week to figure out how to wrap presents, and do it twice (and maybe more for practice). Wish me luck.

Now, last but not least, the decorations. Pictures later, but it's the standard fare at our house. 2 foot tall Christmas tree, lights being fixed outside the house (we don't take em down, we're lazy over here), and figures of angels and Xmas trees on the windows that flash. Then we have the family Christmas party where we usually invite whoever we're related to who's over in Canada to come. More of them means more presents for me.

Now, as for myself, I need to find my Santa hat. It is imperative that I do. Why? Many reasons why, but I shall tell you now. First, it is confortable; sure it gets hot if you leave it on for too long, but it is oh so comfortable. Second, it makes the ladies irresistable. You may think I'm lying, but I do not. I wore the exact same hat during Grade 11 and 12, and I can clearly recall (especially in French class) everyone wanted to wear it. And Carmen Chan kept trying to kill me to wear it. You can ask her. She'll deny it, but it's true. I don't lie.

Well, maybe I do, but not there.

Happy Holidays, but I only say that because it is the holidays. It'll be Merry Christmas when it's December 25th, and there isn't a thing you can do to stop me short of either killing me or ripping out my vocal chords. Do you worst.

"Yes, you look lovely, now JUMP!"

2006-12-04T23:17:00.000-05:00

The Runaway Bride ... no the other one

This is the only reason I'm waiting for Christmas.

21 days and counting.

Freedom! ... Pending?

2006-11-29T21:34:00.000-05:00

DAMN!

Almost... Just when I think I'm done with this term, I remembered I had some tests and an exam this term. But I didn't expect alot more than well... what I was expecting. My history paper was dead easy, 1000 words, short of trying to keep it at 1000 words maximum. My last lab report was due just yesterday, and like other lab reports I had no idea what I was doing. But I handed it in on time.

Tests? Chem Laboratory test is next week Friday. Poli sci test is Tuesday and a final Chemistry exam and I AM DONE. ... for this term.

So anyways, away from such brooding topics. I want to tell you about my day at school, because I can do that and it's really coooooooool.

Yesterday was Poli Sci day, which I generally loathe because... well let's start somewhere else. At least I'm not the only person. Only person what? Okay, my brain is still fried. Anyways, this week, I found out the people in my poli sci tutorial (note: I am the only yellow guy there - yes, I know it's Poli Sci) also equally find the professor just maybe a few sandwiches short of a picnic. It seems they're not the supersmart political science philosopher wannabes (maybe 2 of them are), which is extremely relieving because I felt like I was trapped in a room as the only complete idiot. Also, my poli sci lecture is extremely boring. I spend my time generally browsing the internet and copying down whatever comes up on the PowerPoint slides. But there are total Poli Sci nerds in this lecture. Naturally, they sit at the front. Luckily everyone in my tutorial pretty much agrees those idiots ask the most pathetic questions (Osama bin Laden while we're on the topic of constituions? I'm not that stupid but those are barely relevant) and waste maybe 20 minutes out of the 2 hour lecture and our prof always goes off on these crazy tangents, mumbles at times and worst of all, in a large lecture hall, he tries to use the blackboard at the front of the room. Noone understands him, and its unanimous in our tutorial that we're pretty much screwed for the midterm test. And I do not want my Poli sci essay back, or "2200 words of my arrogance and lack of political knowledge".

And here I was thinking Political Science for white people was what Math is for Chinese people. But it sort of still is in a sense. I mean, we get a 10-minute break in class, and people do discuss politics during this time.

Also, I'd like to mention, I posted (or will soon be, I'm writing both at once, but I'll be quick about it) in this post on my Xanga how to subscribe to RSS feeds (e.g. how to subscribe to my blog) if you haven't already did or tried to figure it out.

The Power of Two

2006-11-22T02:18:00.001-05:00

No math, I promise. But my mind has been messing with me again. I see two too many twos. (See what I did there? Maybe in the morning it will). So what about two? That could mean anything, so to let my mind wander and let it take control of my fingers which will commandeer the keyboard:

I wrote my second chem test yesterday, Tuesday, which I am sure is the second test I won't do so well on in this course, the second half of two halves of a chemistry course(yes, that's quite a stretch, so bear with my insanity).
My second history paper is coming up, (due Monday, okay you got me), which means I need to read another book to write this up. 1000 word papers usually take me two hours to do if it's really late, and the night before.
I noticed, I have two thumbs, two eyes, two ears, two hands, two feet, two b... ok, human anatomy ends there. I think you get the point.
It's now 2:00AM as I write this exact line.
Ummmm.... 1+1 = 2, unless you believe in synergy, 1+1 = 3.

Okay okay okay, so time to stop putting off what I was really going to say about two.

What I really was going to say is that I really like duets - oh hell, don't think I sing them, or watch any reality shows on the subject, just listening to them. Don't ask me who/what/where/when/why/how, make up your own inane explaination as to why I would like listening to duets, because if I had an explaination, it would drive you mad. And when I mean duets, I mean real duets, I don't mean some "run-of-the-mill dollar store rapper featuring some ho off da streets". Those aren't duets, that's probably just an excuse for extra groping during recording, and in any subsequent music videos.

Oh and when I meant me not singing, it means not out of the shower or in my head, and only the guy's lines. So if you ever drag me out along to a Karaoke (in Chinglishnese: Kah-Lah-Oh-KAY), and you want to make an idiot out of me, some unfortunate girl (or guy, but the former, okay?) will need to suffer as we pretend to sing mushy lines to each other. Don't wonder how I like it, just feel fortunate I said I like it.

I'm not good with conclusions. No music tastes were discussed were there?

Maybe next time I'll tell you why I think ABC sucks (the TV network).

Yes, how about that, nothing witty to end this post. I don't always hand that out for free.

A Test of the Emergency Warning System

2006-11-15T02:56:00.000-05:00

Duck and cover! Batten down the hatches! YES, RUN! In a vain attempt for power, or through another delusional dream, I have decided to fortify this location the the Internet. (It's not easy to see if it is of any strategic importance, but I sure hope so, for my sake). For those simply hit the "Next Blog" and coincidentally will find themselves here reading the first of hopefully many entries into this blog, I hope I don't scare you away. If I am, stop reading now, and hit that "Next Blog" button again at the top of your browser window; perhaps the next one you hit will be in Spanglish, or dedicated train engines, or a blog that stars three 16-year old party girls from Timbuktu. Who knows? The world is a big place, and if you cannot accommodate me in that world, I will not cry. Again, if you must, RUN. DON'T LOOK BACK.

For those who would associate themselves with me (read: my friends, but you don't have to use that for your sake), you had better find it in yourselves to be obligated to read whatever incoherent babbling I post. You don't have to comment, but at least take it to heart, or at least take an attempt to process it into coherency. I would do the same for you. I truly would.

So what is this? This is a blog, obviously. But beyond that, it's just as simple to explain; none of that mystical mumbo-jumbo, if that's what you were expecting. I run this blog - simple as that, and I shall post (hopefully on a regular basis) anything I find relevant to amuse yourself at my expense (those are usually fun, aren't they - ADMIT IT). And you, as the reader, read, or at least take an attempt to understand what I am trying to communicate. I would like to think and tell myself that I have some measure of wit, otherwise, this entire post and in effect, the entire blog is just a waste on my efforts and would be an extreme waste of my time to continue further. I'll make it clear I'm not neccessarily going to stop posting if I don't get comments. I'm not an emotionally broken 14-year old boy from Wisconsin whose mother dropped him on his head as an infant and whose father was afraid of pen protectors and Clint Eastwood movies. Perhaps if it has to be so, I will use this blog to document my descent into madness, provided I am still lucid at the end.