As I stated, with quite a bit of detail in a previous blog: Street Fighter II. I prefer to end the year with a game of Street Fighter II. I prefer to begin a year with a game of Street Fighter II.
Part of it is nostalgia. Part of it is just having a private little tradition of my own. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. ^_^
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You walk a mystical path, and are a creature of the spiritual and the supernatural. You are introspective and self-reliant, but nobody will ever question your bravery or commitment to justice.
It’s a toss-up, but me thinks one Wile Ethelbert Coyote would win by the skin of his often battered & bruised nose. (Before he ran off the edge of a steep cliff.)
Wile .E Coyote is the quintessential loser who is perpetually foiled either by some fatal flaw in his machinations, or by fate. Be it a misfiring catapult, or a Burmese tiger-trap that manages to catch a Burmese Tiger (instead of a certain bird), or a rocket that stops working just inches away from the safe footing of a rocky cliff.
Yet, he’s a simple coyote with a simple goal. He’s not really after something grand. There are other, far meatier & tastier options (the domesticated Chicken & Turkey come to mind), but he’s content chasing after what’s at hand. A scrawny Road-Runner. And for everything life is flinging his animated way; his response is quite nonchalant; whether it’s the iconic fall, from a high cliff; or the realization of an incoming train from a painted tunnel; or the multitude of malfunctioning machines.
In the end, Wile E. Coyote is someone I can identify with on a personal level; and on an imaginary level, atleast, laugh with him (rather than at him) at how fucked up life can get.
The other character, who I decided not to go with after much, much contemplation, is of course, Taz, the Tasmanian Devil. We share similar temperment. And table-manners.
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You will be happy that you read this all the way through!
A bold and inaccurate assumption. How do you know I won’t be tired, or hungry, or sleepy, or afraid after reading this? Hmm? Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmm?
As you got up this morning, I watched you, and hoped you would talk to me, even if it was just a few words, asking my opinion or thanking me for something good that happened in your life yesterday.
Ya’know, a lot of people associate that with stalking. I mean, how comfertable would you feel if you woke up to find someone just staring at you? Not lying next to you, not in the same room as you, not getting you breakfast, not waking you up, not sleeping but STARING at you.
But I noticed you were too busy, trying to find the right outfit to wear.When you ran around the house getting ready, I knew there would be a few minutes for you to stop and say hello, but you were too busy.
Another bold and inaccurate assumtion. The total amount of time I spend picking a pair of pants, a shirt, a clean underwear and a still-wearable pair of socks do not amount to more than forty two seconds. Given my nonchalant attitude, I highly doubt I BUSY myself with the act of picking the aforementioned pair of pants, a shirt, a clean underwear and a still-wearable pair of socks.
At one point you had to wait, fifteen minutes with nothing to do except sit in a chair.
It’s not a chair, it’s a commode. And I prefer not to go into details about what it is I was or wasn’t doing.
Then I saw you spring to your feet. I thought you wanted to talk to me, but you ran to the phone and called a friend to get the latest gossip instead.
Yet another bold and inaccurate assumption. I prefer to avoid phones whenever possible; which should makes me wonder about the source of information involving my daily activities. I mean, really, first some supposedly sees me talking on the phone about the latest gossip, the next thing you know someone will see “me” selling heroine in a dark & deserted alley somewhere.
I watched patiently all day long. With all your activities I guess you were too busy to say anything to me.
That’s because I’m not a STALKER. I have to work to earn money, so I can pay bills and put food on the table.
Yes, I do Love God. He is my source of existence and Savior. Allah keeps me functioning each and everyday. Without Him, I will be nothing. Without him, I am nothing, but with Him This is the simplest test .
This is not a simple test. This is an email. This is an email that will inevitably end up taking up space in someone else’s inbox.
. . if you Love God, and are not ashamed of all the marvelous things he has done for you. Send this to your list!
… because forwarding email serve little purpose, in religion as well as real life, other than clog up other people’s inbox. Worse still, it provides a group of other wise complete strangers with the email address of other complete strangers.
That’s all.
6.
When I was a wee lad, I was blown away by the revelation that not only could one arrive at 6 by adding 1, 2 and 3 (the first three numbers in the number system, not counting 0) together; but multiplying the numbers with each other as well.
I know, I know, silly. But that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
=^^=
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And not just one of those “I need a couple of more hours of sleep”-type tired either.
I find myself with barely the energy to drone on from one point to another, home, office, home, and on and on. Barely going through the motions, but that’s about it. There are a buttload of things I have to do. There are a buttload of things to do. But I can barely find the energy to sleep let alone do anything.
Coffee only goes so far, and more and more, I find myself awake at night. Dead tired, but unable to go to sleep.
Anyways, that’s all…
=_=
Hello there. 
News of my demise was greatly exaggerated. Okay, okay, so maybe it wasn’t. This is one of those anticipatory posts I had prepared in preparation of my impending demise. So… erm… lovely we’re having these days huh? Then again, any weather looks lovely when you’re six feet underground. Atleast I hope I’m six feet underground, and not slowly being dissolved by digestive juices in the innards of a Sumatran tiger. Or a great white shark. Although, admittedly, that would be kick ass. I mean how many people do you know that were eaten by a great white shark? Hmm? Hmmmmmmmmm?
Anyways, on to the issue in hand, and the reason behind my post. Looking back, or technically speaking, looking ahead about looking back… the fact that I haven’t called, written or emailed any of you for a long time might have clued you in to the sudden change in my lifestyle. Then again, it’s not like I have much of say in this at this point. I mean if I did, I would have preferred to have gone out with a bit more style.
For the most part, I’ve said what I wanted to say when I was alive. Or so I would like to believe. And just about the only things I can think up of to say are, thanks for everything, and, I wish we had more time. Anything else like “I guess I won’t be paying you back the three dollars I owe you.”, or “Did you see the last episode of ‘The Simpsons’?”, or “What the fuck is George Lucas thinking with Indiana Jones 5?”, or “Why did you buy Guitar Hero 2 when, for a few dollars more you could have bought an actual guitar?”, “I tried out your nose-hair trimmer, but forgot to tell you about it”, or “‘Mulching’ is a process of inbred fertilization which employs certain decomposed organic materials including, but not limited to animal sediments, to blanket an area in which vegetation is desired. The process enriches the soil for simulated plant development while, at the same time, preventing erosion and decreasing the evaporation of moisture from the ground.” feels kinda’ insignificant at this point.
Well, perhaps the definition of “Mulching” is somewhat significant. I mean if I’m buried somewhere, that’s about all I’ll be doing for the next few years. If I’ve been eaten, I’m already on my way towards becoming the aforementioned “animal sediment”. Although, admittedly, if I have died from falling into a vat of molten gold, or from being an unfortunate passenger in a space shuttle explosion, chances are I’m making very little contribution to the art of mulching. But I’m getting ahead of my self.
If my will has been executed to the letter, my body, (or whatever remained of it) along with all of my physical belongings and whatever cash I had at hand has been dumped into the ocean somewhere. If anyone is compelled to pay their last respects to me, go to the beach, and don’t do anything to the water you wouldn’t do to me. That’s about it. So… peace out… and… err… if I don’t meet you no more in this world then I’ll meet you on the next one… and don’t be late.
m/
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I … wish I had a straightforward answer… D:
There are definitely memorable moments from my college experiences. There was the time a friend offered me a ticket to an Ozzy Concert. There was the time, when a arrow with a dull tip bounced back, 9 feet, to the point where I had shot it from; or when Reggie yanked on Ding’s break away pants just as he was about to spike a volleyball. There there was the time I told a professor to deduct two points from my exam. (I will remember the look on his face until the day I die.) There was the six-people wave. There were the multitude of situations & scenarios during volleyball, that wouldn’t be out of place in a slapstick comedy. There was the brilliant substitute teacher, who barely spoke English; yet he managed to do a better job, for three weeks, of teaching the class with a few photocopied sheets than the person he was substituted for. There was the teacher who explained various rules of finance using dirty jokes; and when the time came for final exam, all I could think of where the dirty jokes, and little else. There was the time I stayed awake for seventy two hours straight, and past forty eight hours, managed to start blacking out. There were the clubs; the Archery Club, the Philosophy Club, the Computer Information Systems Society, New York Cares, the Hong Kong student society, the Taiwanese student society, the Israeli Student Society; that brought with them memories otherwise unforgettable. (Especially the Archery Club & the Philosophy Club.)
I wish I could pick one of the above and say “That is the one memory I will always cherish.” However, most of my cherished memories from college would be considered by most to be rather bland. They are the memories of my friends. The otherwise plain, and generally considered uninteresting stuff. Meeting new friends. Hanging out after, or between, classes. Running into someone rather unexpectedly. Arguing about where to go out to eat, before eventually deciding to head on over to Chinatown.
And I refuse to pick just one. XP
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Probably something that would give me diarrhea. To an extreme degree.
I mean, if I was dying of natural causes or something, I could understand; and would preferably make my last meal somewhat of an enjoyable experience, but if I’m being executed… well… >:D
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