I don't want to be Emo McGee. I really don't. But it occurred to me that blog posts aren't born out of happy thoughts, at least for me anyway. They usually form because I have something to say that I can't really say out loud or to anyone in particular. 100% honesty time: even when I have some kind of nugget of wisdom or uplifting moral to the story, I'm only saying it because I'm trying to convince myself it's true, not because I necessarily believe it. For this very reason, I sometimes wish no one at all actually read this blog.
Consider for a second teenagers and their boundless angst. We look at them and think "how could they be so upset over something so trivial? They don't know what REAL problems are." True, they haven't experienced some of life's more advanced complications, but that doesn't make their problems any less real. Your problems scale up as time progresses, so what doesn't seem like a big deal to you now could very well be a grievous trial for a teenager. It's like training Pokemon. Sure, when you've got all eight badges and you're on your way to the Elite Four, Caterpies in Viridian Forest don't pose even the slightest threat. But when you're fresh out of Pallet Town, those same Caterpies could very well knock you out if you're not careful. With experience comes strength, and with that strength comes new challenges. What I'm trying to say is we shouldn't trivialize the plights of others just because we've outgrown the inadequacies they face.
The reason I bring this up is because I look back at some of the older, angstier posts I've written over the course of this blog and think "I was such an idiot back then. How did I let that bother me so much?" But the fact of the matter is, at the time, those were very real concerns weighing heavily on my mind. And I wasn't even a teenager, when I started this blog, I was 22 years old. All I have to do is transport myself mentally to a given time, and then it's like "ohhhhh yeah... I remember what that was like. That was kinda rough."
My life isn't awful right now; far from it, in fact. I have a good job, my family and I are all relatively healthy, my living conditions are stable, and I just bought a new car less than a month ago. There are just... things that make me sad. It's sort of a relief to actually say that, and this is one of the only places I can do it. It's my job to be in a good mood for five hours a night, whether I actually am or not, so it's nice to not have to force a smile for a change. This, of course, is why I started primarily stealth-blogging... I don't really want to freely admit that to most people, and my posts toward the end of 2012 were starting to take on a very downtrodden tone. But I'm not looking for a pity party. I just want to be able to say what it is I'm thinking, especially when I've got quite a bit on my mind, as I do now. Maybe now that I've presented this informal confession, I'll start doing that more often.
Tuesday, April 9, 2013
Friday, March 15, 2013
A Brief Interjection
Oh, hello there! Good to see you round these parts again. Yes I know, it's been a while. I haven't posted anything here in a hot minute. Hmm. I think that's the first time I've ever used that phrase, but it seems appropriate, so I'm gonna leave it.
Anyway, I've been gone for a while because... well, I really haven't had much to say. That and I've started playing League of Legends every night after work. Old Bill would be so ashamed of me, but it's actually a really fun game (when you win). The only problem I have is that right now (and likely forevermore) I'm not terribly good at the game, and the only champion I can play and have a shot at winning with is Cho'Gath; if I pick anyone else (except maybe Garen) our team is likely doomed. In a way, it reminds me of Mortal Kombat: Deception, and how if I wanted to be certain of victory, I would just pick Baraka. Except I'm actually good at Mortal Kombat and could beat most people with any character; Baraka was just like hitting the auto-win button. Cho'Gath is like hitting the "if you want to win, you have to press this button first; it's not guaranteed, but if you want any shot at all you have to do it" button.
Speaking of Mortal Kombat, I find it interesting how you can reboot a franchise so easily with time travel. The creative team wrote themselves into a corner at the end of Mortal Kombat: Armageddon, although it could easily have been fixed if MK vs. DC was actually canon, and I really feel like they kind of missed an opportunity there. Instead of developing a possible storyline involving Armageddon triggering universe overlap with DC and following it up with mending the rifts and continuing the story from there, they had Raiden, at death's door, telepathically send his past self a riddle (hokey, but whatever) which completely altered the progression of events laid out by the first three games, and frankly, not in a good way. I guess it was decent for restructuring the series for future games, but there was one really weak, cop-out sequence right before the end of the game that just left a terrible taste in my mouth.
I guess that's about all I feel like saying now, since I'm getting a wee bit drowsy. It's not much, but I haven't much of substance to say, so when I do, I will return to the blogging front once more and dive right into the trenches. Until then, dear reader(s?), I bid you a hearty farewell.
Anyway, I've been gone for a while because... well, I really haven't had much to say. That and I've started playing League of Legends every night after work. Old Bill would be so ashamed of me, but it's actually a really fun game (when you win). The only problem I have is that right now (and likely forevermore) I'm not terribly good at the game, and the only champion I can play and have a shot at winning with is Cho'Gath; if I pick anyone else (except maybe Garen) our team is likely doomed. In a way, it reminds me of Mortal Kombat: Deception, and how if I wanted to be certain of victory, I would just pick Baraka. Except I'm actually good at Mortal Kombat and could beat most people with any character; Baraka was just like hitting the auto-win button. Cho'Gath is like hitting the "if you want to win, you have to press this button first; it's not guaranteed, but if you want any shot at all you have to do it" button.
Speaking of Mortal Kombat, I find it interesting how you can reboot a franchise so easily with time travel. The creative team wrote themselves into a corner at the end of Mortal Kombat: Armageddon, although it could easily have been fixed if MK vs. DC was actually canon, and I really feel like they kind of missed an opportunity there. Instead of developing a possible storyline involving Armageddon triggering universe overlap with DC and following it up with mending the rifts and continuing the story from there, they had Raiden, at death's door, telepathically send his past self a riddle (hokey, but whatever) which completely altered the progression of events laid out by the first three games, and frankly, not in a good way. I guess it was decent for restructuring the series for future games, but there was one really weak, cop-out sequence right before the end of the game that just left a terrible taste in my mouth.
I guess that's about all I feel like saying now, since I'm getting a wee bit drowsy. It's not much, but I haven't much of substance to say, so when I do, I will return to the blogging front once more and dive right into the trenches. Until then, dear reader(s?), I bid you a hearty farewell.
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
Wiz Khalifa In Payphone: I Know That Feel, Bro
Alright. I've had enough of being Emo McGee.
A Christmas present from Danny Latin just arrived in the mail. It's a friggin sweet Calvin and Hobbes wallet, which is perfect because a) I have loved Calvin and Hobbes with all my heart since I was seven years old, b) I need a new wallet, and c) it's the first two panels of the very last strip of the comic, which, if you're familiar with it, is so symbolically perfect right now.
For once, I am so very excited about the future.
There's always a bigger fish.
Onward and upward.
And there you have it.
Short and sweet.
"Don't mourn for me. This is my destiny." -Gerrard
Thursday, January 17, 2013
I Could Be An Accident
No one blogs anymore. I guess I'll take it upon myself to break the silence.
Before I get underway, I just want to say that I write this blog more for myself than for anyone else. I realize that. I don't want to sound like some self-important peddler of internet wisdom talking down to anyone who reads it. But at the same time, I figure if I can sort things out and reach seemingly reasonable conclusions, then maybe someone else could take something useful away from my conclusions as well, which is why I post this stuff online rather than just writing it down in some notebook somewhere that no one will ever read.
The reason I've been stealth-blogging lately is because, when I first started writing this blog, almost every post had a point I felt I could share with people, some bit of insight I'd gleaned from my experiences that I felt was worth passing along. In the last few months, it's been very introspective, and there's a solid chance that no one would take anything useful from them at all. There's a pretty good chance some of the stuff makes no sense to anyone who doesn't know exactly what's going on in my life, and an even better chance that the people who do will make fun of me for what I have to say. I will say this, though: I know the difference between a witch and a Little Sister. I've encountered a witch before. The crying is the telltale sign.
I'm not wrong about Little Sisters. I'm certain of that. Maybe I'm a little too forgiving, but if more people shared that trait, the world would be a better place. Heck, even the witch wouldn't really have been a problem if we hadn't startled her.
But I'm not a genetic experiment. I'm not a Big Daddy. I don't have weapons or plasmids, or a penitent doctor to guide me. To mix my metaphors and toss in a simile, it's like Nick Fury without an Agent Coulson. The Avengers are all there... but they have no motivation.
And that's where everything stands. If it doesn't make sense, that's probably for the best.
Before I get underway, I just want to say that I write this blog more for myself than for anyone else. I realize that. I don't want to sound like some self-important peddler of internet wisdom talking down to anyone who reads it. But at the same time, I figure if I can sort things out and reach seemingly reasonable conclusions, then maybe someone else could take something useful away from my conclusions as well, which is why I post this stuff online rather than just writing it down in some notebook somewhere that no one will ever read.
The reason I've been stealth-blogging lately is because, when I first started writing this blog, almost every post had a point I felt I could share with people, some bit of insight I'd gleaned from my experiences that I felt was worth passing along. In the last few months, it's been very introspective, and there's a solid chance that no one would take anything useful from them at all. There's a pretty good chance some of the stuff makes no sense to anyone who doesn't know exactly what's going on in my life, and an even better chance that the people who do will make fun of me for what I have to say. I will say this, though: I know the difference between a witch and a Little Sister. I've encountered a witch before. The crying is the telltale sign.
I'm not wrong about Little Sisters. I'm certain of that. Maybe I'm a little too forgiving, but if more people shared that trait, the world would be a better place. Heck, even the witch wouldn't really have been a problem if we hadn't startled her.
But I'm not a genetic experiment. I'm not a Big Daddy. I don't have weapons or plasmids, or a penitent doctor to guide me. To mix my metaphors and toss in a simile, it's like Nick Fury without an Agent Coulson. The Avengers are all there... but they have no motivation.
And that's where everything stands. If it doesn't make sense, that's probably for the best.
Monday, January 7, 2013
New Year, New Perspective
I just had a moment of quasi-transcendent thought. Naturally it came, like most moments of its kind, right as I was laying down to try and go to sleep, but such is the nature of the beast.
Before I went to bed tonight, I sat at my computer watching some old videos from different points in my college life. As usual, it was both gratifying and somewhat disheartening to look back at some of my finer moments, in the sense that those were great times, but now they're over. I'm a very nostalgic individual, which is why I have so many videos in the first place. I like remembering. As I laid my head down upon my pillow, I had one of those interchangeable thoughts along the lines of "why did I take _____ for granted back when _____?"
*Lightbulb*
Probably at least in part because I spend too much time thinking about how awesome things were "back then." Instead of wishing I could go back to a given point in the past, I should be focusing on having a good time with what's going on now, because at some point in the future I will inevitably look back on my life as it is now and say "man, that was awesome. Why didn't I take more advantage of that situation?" Simply put, today is the yesterday of tomorrow. Everything always looks better in retrospect, so I should try to squeeze as much enjoyment out of the present as I can while keeping in mind that the past wasn't as sparkly as I remember it. That's probably the best way to keep a solid grip on reality.
Before I went to bed tonight, I sat at my computer watching some old videos from different points in my college life. As usual, it was both gratifying and somewhat disheartening to look back at some of my finer moments, in the sense that those were great times, but now they're over. I'm a very nostalgic individual, which is why I have so many videos in the first place. I like remembering. As I laid my head down upon my pillow, I had one of those interchangeable thoughts along the lines of "why did I take _____ for granted back when _____?"
*Lightbulb*
Probably at least in part because I spend too much time thinking about how awesome things were "back then." Instead of wishing I could go back to a given point in the past, I should be focusing on having a good time with what's going on now, because at some point in the future I will inevitably look back on my life as it is now and say "man, that was awesome. Why didn't I take more advantage of that situation?" Simply put, today is the yesterday of tomorrow. Everything always looks better in retrospect, so I should try to squeeze as much enjoyment out of the present as I can while keeping in mind that the past wasn't as sparkly as I remember it. That's probably the best way to keep a solid grip on reality.
Friday, December 28, 2012
Sierra Delta
And so it was that a great time to write a post was on a snow day. It was also evidently a good idea to begin the post as though it were a book of the Bible. Today was a snow day of sorts; not for me, because in radio, it could be snowing fireballs and the show must go on. But my roommates took the day off rather than brave the elements, and Ned is on Christmas break anyway. Unable to resist the call of AM EDH, I was roused from my slumber at 9:30. Following three games, we set out, a ragtag band of four young lads, and emerged from the fray as FIRE TEAM SIERRA DELTA: The Power Rangers of Snow Removal.
It was reminiscent of Fire Team Alpha and Fire Team Bravo, two similarly elite strike forces set out to retrieve items on a post-Hobbit excursion to Walmart on Christmas Eve. Fire Team Alpha's mission was to escort a few boxes of dishes, purchased by my dad as a Christmas gift for my mom, out to the van (Alpha for "automobile"), and I was proud to be a member alongside my dad and my brother Michael. Chris, Ned, and Mark comprised Fire Team Bravo, combing the bowels of Walmart's grocery underbelly in search of a loaf of bread (Bravo for "bread"). Both missions were successful.
As the storm beset the Capital Region in the twilight hours of 2012, we were dispatched to help shovel out our respective parents' driveways, stopping first at the abode of my progenitors, where our training was held and we acquired our weapons: snow shovels, each of a different color, to match our... well I don't know what they matched, but they were all different, like Power Rangers. Mine was black, Chris's was blue, Ned's was red, and Anthony's was green. I'm not making this up.
Following swift completion of our task, we then made the trek to Anthony's parents' residence, whereupon we, combined with his brother's silver shovel, cleared out the entire driveway in less than 15 minutes. At that point, we realized our true potential and began naming our trusty shovels. My first inspiration was Mjolnir, in honor of the mighty Thor's hammer. But I realized a more appropriate term was be Elbrus, the Binding Shovel, a homage to a legendary equipment from Magic. And then, the conversation devolved into the dorkiest exchange I've had in a long time, and we just went back and forth substituting the word "shovel" in the names of different Magic cards. For instance: Shovel, the Risen Deep. One of my personal favorites was It that Shovels, but seriously, it was nerdy to the max.
Anyway, the moral of the story is we shoveled really fast.
It was reminiscent of Fire Team Alpha and Fire Team Bravo, two similarly elite strike forces set out to retrieve items on a post-Hobbit excursion to Walmart on Christmas Eve. Fire Team Alpha's mission was to escort a few boxes of dishes, purchased by my dad as a Christmas gift for my mom, out to the van (Alpha for "automobile"), and I was proud to be a member alongside my dad and my brother Michael. Chris, Ned, and Mark comprised Fire Team Bravo, combing the bowels of Walmart's grocery underbelly in search of a loaf of bread (Bravo for "bread"). Both missions were successful.
As the storm beset the Capital Region in the twilight hours of 2012, we were dispatched to help shovel out our respective parents' driveways, stopping first at the abode of my progenitors, where our training was held and we acquired our weapons: snow shovels, each of a different color, to match our... well I don't know what they matched, but they were all different, like Power Rangers. Mine was black, Chris's was blue, Ned's was red, and Anthony's was green. I'm not making this up.
Following swift completion of our task, we then made the trek to Anthony's parents' residence, whereupon we, combined with his brother's silver shovel, cleared out the entire driveway in less than 15 minutes. At that point, we realized our true potential and began naming our trusty shovels. My first inspiration was Mjolnir, in honor of the mighty Thor's hammer. But I realized a more appropriate term was be Elbrus, the Binding Shovel, a homage to a legendary equipment from Magic. And then, the conversation devolved into the dorkiest exchange I've had in a long time, and we just went back and forth substituting the word "shovel" in the names of different Magic cards. For instance: Shovel, the Risen Deep. One of my personal favorites was It that Shovels, but seriously, it was nerdy to the max.
Anyway, the moral of the story is we shoveled really fast.
Friday, December 14, 2012
They Don't Know What Dope Is
In Bioshock 2 (which I recently finished), there's an audio diary recorded by a little boy named Billy Parson in Dionysus Park:
In case you've never played a Bioshock game, Little Sisters are genetically modified little girls who collect Adam (itself a substance that can modify DNA) from corpses in the undersea city of Rapture, and they have glowing yellow eyes. Most of the population of Rapture regarded the Little Sisters as monsters, deplorable abominations to be feared and avoided. But to Billy, this one particular Little Sister was no monster, she was beautiful. And in reality, she was in fact just a poor, impressionable little girl, conditioned, manipulated, and subverted by someone willing to take advantage of her. Altered, but not irredeemable.
There's indication in the game that the Little Sister Billy was in love with was Cindy, Mark Meltzer's daughter. I rescued her. Ultimately, that's the whole point of both Bioshock games: to save the Little Sisters. Unless you want the bad ending, but nobody wants the bad ending.
Billy loved this Little Sister even though he didn't know any more about her than anyone else in Rapture did. He just had a feeling, a feeling that didn't remotely touch on the possibility of her being evil or a lost cause. And she was neither of those things.
In case you've never played a Bioshock game, Little Sisters are genetically modified little girls who collect Adam (itself a substance that can modify DNA) from corpses in the undersea city of Rapture, and they have glowing yellow eyes. Most of the population of Rapture regarded the Little Sisters as monsters, deplorable abominations to be feared and avoided. But to Billy, this one particular Little Sister was no monster, she was beautiful. And in reality, she was in fact just a poor, impressionable little girl, conditioned, manipulated, and subverted by someone willing to take advantage of her. Altered, but not irredeemable.
There's indication in the game that the Little Sister Billy was in love with was Cindy, Mark Meltzer's daughter. I rescued her. Ultimately, that's the whole point of both Bioshock games: to save the Little Sisters. Unless you want the bad ending, but nobody wants the bad ending.
Billy loved this Little Sister even though he didn't know any more about her than anyone else in Rapture did. He just had a feeling, a feeling that didn't remotely touch on the possibility of her being evil or a lost cause. And she was neither of those things.
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