Resolutions

Every single new years resolution - since I've been dating - has been to be happy with the person I'm with all the way until the next new years (I included "since I've been dating" because before that my resolutions were "get a girlfriend/hot girlfriend").

But, as for the last 5 years of resolutions, I have never succeeded. I have almost always broken up with the girl I was with because I was not "being happy" with them. Then, to accent this circle of "lying to the New Years Gods," I've dated or been with another girl at new years time and made the same resolution.

Maybe I'm a hopeless romantic who just wants to be with someone for the whole cycle of a year. Not so true. Who knows?

But, as referred to previously, I am still continuing this cycle. As if to prove my point, I have broken up with the girl I was with throughout this year, and am now with another girl, who I actually dated before and made this resolution for (do I get to make up resolutions past?).

I think I'm going to stop making this absurd resolution and do something more feasible, like "eat a cheeseburger" or "cook a stir fry that doesn't include wilted/overcooked vegetables"

Well, I suppose I should get to planning. Hmmm....what to do....

I'm Writing a Research Paper

It is becoming damn near impossible for me to write this research paper. So damn near impossible, that I'm blogging about it. Ugh.
My paper is called "Alchemy and Science to Enact Fear in Mary Shelley's Frankenstein." And, unfortunately for me, but also slightly fortunate, there is no other article like mine. So, as great as it could be that my article will be one of a kind, there is also almost nothing (scholarly) to base my article on.
It's going to be tough considering my article is due in about 15 hours.
I just want it to be over. It is my final final of this semester and will be a great paper to submit for my graduate applications. I just want to be done.
I want to read books (mostly the books I was supposed to read this semester), watch movies, and just relax.
Oh, and I haven't bought any Christmas presents either and that is coming up WAY too soon.

Well, I suppose it's time to get back to work. Shalom followers and stumblers.

How Much For a Free Lobster Dinner?

           Several years ago, in the bay area, when my father had hair on his head and I wasn’t even a thought, he and his friends were bored, hungry, and drinking. They had gone to a restaurant, a relatively nice restaurant, to drink at the downstairs bar and have a good time. After an hour or so of drinking and joking around, the men decided that it was time to walk back home to the apartment, and maybe make some food.

            “All we’ve got is pasta,” my dad remarked to the other three men.

            He was met with a grumble and a weary nod as if to say, it’s better than nothing, but we’re still going to hate it.

            They all stood up from their tall bar table, drunkenly pushed their stools back to where they found them (sort of), and trudged out of the bar doing their best not to knock anything over.

            Heading back up the stairs into the restaurant area of the building, in a semi-drunken stupor, my dad noticed a large lobster tank in the middle of the foyer. Or, should I say he noticed a prospect that sounded better than pasta.

            “I don’t think we’ll be eating pasta tonight, guys,” my dad remarked.

            His friends looked back at him with confused stares and blank faces. He pointed to the tank, and suddenly as if holy light had shone down upon the large aquarium his friends’ faces went completely aglow and excitement filled their eyes. So, they began to plan.

After what seemed like several minutes of superior planning, which was probably a couple seconds of drunken ideas, my dad’s friend, Rich, went to the host to strike up a conversation.

Rich was a smooth-talking Italian man who would later grow up to be a very profitable real estate agent. If you needed anyone to talk, and to talk well, Rich was certainly your man. He could probably make conversation with a mute.

While Rich distracted the host talking of being a restaurateur and expressing great interest in the business, my dad sneakily waltzed over to the lobsters’ tank. After looking several times in all directions to make sure that the coast was clear, he rolled up his sleeve and reached in. This must have looked extremely odd and extremely illegal to anyone around, but fortunately for my dad as well as his friends it was a busy night and few people were actually paying any attention. After a second he snatched up a very large lobster and held it dancing in his hand. He flashed it at his friends by the stairs and mouthed a silent “WOW!” as they giggled and tried to keep their cool.

            Upon noticing my dad’s fresh catch, Rich started to finish his conversation with the host as the rest of the crew made their escape. My dad and “dinner” hid within the group as they passed the host giggling and mouthing a “thank you” to the preoccupied host. I’m sure the host never knew how thankful they actually were. The men then regrouped outside with Rich and paused for a secret victory dance.

            They sprinted back home and rejoiced that at least for tonight, they wouldn’t be eating pasta.

On Floating

I feared for my own short life,

Afraid that I may lose myself.

Cold, rushing waters. But they made me safe.

Floated hundreds of times, they said.

As long as I stuck with them I’d have no worries, they said.

I relaxed and believed, safe.

Then, the current started to pick up,

And take our tubes where it shouldn’t.

Toward a drowned, dead tree.

It grabbed us and sent me

Into the strong current, fighting for

My life, head bobbing up and down

While I gripped the trunk to save myself.

Love: Like Clockwork

Your pointed hands dance before my eyes,

Forcing me to stare.

Keeping me chained with constant anxiety.

Your beautiful crystal-white face smiles at me from across the room,

But your glass house keeps you protected from my tinkering.

Your slender arms always moving in a

Steady,

Beautiful,

Rhythm,

I hang on your every tick and tock,

Until I can finally be free.

Some Statements Created Through Magnet Poetry

They were just words, I added punctuation to make them sentences...kinda.

Enjoy:

"Would sixty million sheep go into infinity? Some don’t."

"Each day, nine good little beans abuse a tall grain press."

"Country grows like artichokes in city."

"Who is who with seven thousand computer trees?"

"Real yellow where small dog try to sleep."

"Never read and write under your own pie."

"Run Gingerbread Company not for self."

"You see bread, then our idea of their lighthouse."

Ward: The Writer

I don’t sit down at my black Target discount desk and write. I throw up on paper with a pen in my hand.

Ward is the writer. He acts symbiotically with me. He takes all of that word vomit and finds what worth writing about. It’s his pen that sits poised in my hand, and it’s his hand that makes it write.

I put words on a page to prove something, to prove I can write, but it might as well be to prove I’m literate with the content hanging on the value of the words. Of course I want to be great, but I really write to prove that I can do what I set out to do. Prove that I can finish something, and that it will meet my standard.

Ward takes my words I place all over the page and presents them with style and creates an art. He works with my structure-less clay and molds it to meet my standard.

He writes to feel good, to be reflective, cynical, fun.

I just make the motions.

I write to look good. I write to make the “Kelly” at the top of the page shine. To make people see my name and think, Oh my! Kelly is sooo interesting. Maybe I should sleep with him? That’s a joke, but I wouldn’t fight them. I write to keep my name out there, to create a recognizable identity, to be noticed. I want to accomplish something. I don’t want to be a face in the crowd. I want to be published, and would love to be famous. To have people read the vomit I spew forth onto my page.

Ward doesn’t care about these things. He writes to vent and because it makes him happy. He doesn’t care if anyone notices him in public, or if anyone reads the art he paints with my pen. He writes with the sole understanding that I may be the only one to read his work and tell him my thoughts.

Ward could care less.

Ward is sarcastic, strange, and funny. I try to be deep and write provocatively, but I just end up getting in Ward’s way. He tends to toss out my ideas to build a stronger, better piece of art.

I just try to live a little. Find a niche and go out into the world. Ward sits at the dark black Target desk I bought him. He just sits and waits there for me to come home and bring him something new to work with.

Ward is a part of me. He’ll stay with me and with any luck, I can get all I want from him and he’ll always get what he wants from me. I’ll always have words that attract themselves to a blank page like magnet poetry. I’m happy to have Ward there to take the time to – with more talent – rearrange my words into an art that I can appreciate. Maybe one day, if I get my way, I won’t be the only one appreciating it.

A forum post that I thought was funny

Read this out loud and with inflection and exclamation on the CAPS parts, it's stupid.

Also, no punctuation. So it's literally one giant sentence.

"so if you look that there is no major thing in that update same windows same big square ok espn and netflix but espn aint gonna be able here in canada again big deal and ha now i see why xbox live gonna cost 10$ more for listening movie on netflix im gonna stay with my ps3 its free to login on psnetwork so for those who live their life with microsoft on there heart good for you for other its nothing new listening sport on cpu its free even the boxe event are free on www.ifight.tk SO FOR AL GAMER DOES THESE THING'S BETER FOR THE CONSOLE OR JUST FOR DE F?%?&ING LOOK WE WANT TO PLAY FU$%%?ING GAMES GOOD GAMES NOT 7HOUR GAMES LIKE POOR GAYLO BEACH PLEASE MICROSOFT STOP TRY BEING PRETIER JUST TRY TO MAKE GOOD LONG GAMES AND PLEASE DONT MAKE US PAY 10$ MORE FOR SOMETING THAT A LOT WILL NEVER USE BECEAUSE WERE MOSTLY ALL HAVE A BLU RAY DRIVE BUY THE WAY PAY YOUR INTERNET PROVIDER PAY YOUR XBOX LIVE PAY YOUR SUBSCRIPTION TO NETFLIX AN THEN PAY FEE'S BEACEAUSE YOU PLAY ONLINE AND LISTENING MOVIE ON YOUR XBOX MICROSOFT GONNA CONTINUE TO TAKE OUR MONEY UNTIL WE GAMERS GONNA STAND UP AND TELL THEM IS WE CONTINU TO BUY AND SAY NOTHING THEY ARE GONNA CONTINU TO RAISE PRICE AND WE GOT TO SAY IT LOUD WE ARE THE GAMER WE PAY FOR THING THAT ARE SUPOSED TO BE GOOD STUFF BUT NO COMPANY GONNA DO SHIT UNTIL WE STAND UP GAMER ITS TIME FOR US TO STAND UP AND TELL WHAT WE REALY WANT"

Very rousing commentary if I've ever seen any...

PAX 2010 - Day 2

We woke up a little early today, not earlier than yesterday, and then went to BYOC and then went into the exhibition hall and explored the expo.

I ended up doing less exploring, but instead standing in a line for about 2 hours to do a demo. It was hell. BUT, I got to demo a great game and ended up demo-ing it with a hot gaming celebrity, Jessica Chobot (Jason is jealous).

I did get a good look at some costumes and stuff. Not bad. Sooooo much time spent on those things!

Halo Dudes

Turret and Engineer

PAX 2010 - Day 1

So, it's the first day of PAX (Penny Arcade Expo) 2010. It's a massive nerd convention. Video games, computer games, just ALL GAMES. Possible tax write off, work expense?

So, we're in the BYOC room and there are literally 500 people in here with 500 computers. Thousands of dollars of hardware, and one group of dudes in blue shirts guarding it all. Hopefully, MY stuff won't be stolen.

Ok, I'll be in the hall soon. Except, there are about.... 25,000/35,000 people in front of me.

Here's a picture of Jason in the BYOC room

More later.....

Grandma's Review of AVATAR

"Kelly, I just watched that Avatar movie last night."

Oh yea, Grandma? What did you think?

"I thought it was really good, you do understand the message, don't you Kel?"

Oh ya, definitely Grandma. It's like Ferngully and Pocahontas. Like a telling of how the Europeans exploited the Indians when they came to America.

"Yea, sure Kel. Its actually about technology and how its ruining us all."

What? I don't remember...

"Yep. The other day I was on the phone with a woman, and she kept telling me how I had to check the internet to fix my problem. I remember when it used to be that you just had to fix it yourself. It was easy. Now, I don't have any idea what's going on. Do you remember in the movie how the humans had all the technology? The blue people didn't, and they died because of it. The humans were ruled by the technology. That's what the movie is really about."

Also about the Europeans exploiting the Native Americans and how they killed a lot of them and took their lands? Right, Grandma?

"No, I don't think so."



Apparently, my grandma is worried about a technological apocalypse, and Avatar had nothing to do with Native Americans.

Shaking After A Pee

I’m always uncertain when shaking after a good pee. Like how long is too long and if I don’t do it enough, will everyone notice? What if it’s too much and everyone still notices?

When you’re alone its cool to shake as much as you want, but when someone walks in its like, “Hello, time to go!” And what if I’m not done? How annoying is it when you think you’re all done, and then as you leave you realize you’re not as done as you thought you were? Then you’re vulnerable, ‘cause its not like you can just go back and add more shake without looking like a total weirdo, so then you go the rest of the day thinking, “Shit! Not enough shake!” and its not like you can look at your crotch while you’re walking ‘cause then you feel like everyone will watch as you uncouthly and pathetically look at your own penis for drops on your shorts/pants. So you walk shoulders back hoping to God your boxers, briefs, whitey-tightey’s, or whatever you’re wearing that day are thick enough that if you drip you’ll be clean on the outside even if you have to struggle through some momentary wetness. Then there are those moments when you shake so much hoping that you’re done that you not only make a total fool of yourself to those that may or may not be momentarily spying on you, but you may shake so much that those residual drips get on the outside of your shorts/pants and now, what was the purpose for shaking in the first place?

X: A Short Story

I get off the phone with Tom. Can’t wait to see the girl he’s bringing this time. Can’t wait to get into the building. Good thing I brought water. Time to try the door.

            They checked my ID. I don’t know why. I don’t look over 18? Gotta get away from the crowd. These guys keep bumping into me. I’m gonna lose my keys.

            I got to the corner. Just check the coast. Clear. Pull out the bag. Glad no one’s around. This one’s a funny blue. Got a face on it or somethin’. Creepy. It’s looking at me. Ugh. I grunt at the taste. Bitter and dry. Like soap.

            It’s been ten minutes. No effect. No Tom. I might go to the main. Maybe I’ll start to feel this. I’ll wait another ten.

            Twenty minutes now. No effect. Mouth’s a bit dry. Think I’ll take some water now. Still no Tom. Maybe I’ll do a second. Still bitter. No more waiting. Going into the main.

            The flashing lights. They excite me. The bass. I can feel it. I can feel the beads of sweat. They're rolling down my forehead. It's a cool burn.

            So many people in here. She's got a great ass. I might try to find her later. Whoa. That's a big man. I can smell his sweat. It's really... oh I love this song.

            Glad I wore these jeans. They feel good rubbing against the palms of my hands. These lights are brilliant. They’re hitting my eyes. These colors are driving me mad. I’m feeling the bass. The room. It’s spinning now. I think I might fall down. No. Staying up. Maybe I shouldn’t have taken a second. I might go…oh there’s the bass again. My bones are vibrating. My teeth want to clench. Want to crack.

            Hey there’s that ass. I might go to it. She’s welcoming. I feel comfortable. I hear a muffled yell. Maybe it’s my ears. She stopped dancing. Looks concerned. She’s not looking at me. Over my shoulder. Scared now more than concerned. Her mouth moves slowly.  The strobe is catching her. “It’s just dancing!” I can see her mouth forming the words. It’s so slow I can see the white and colored marks on her teeth. Her gums are pink. Her lips. Red. They twitch at every word.

            Hand on my shoulder. Spins me around. It’s that tall fuck. His sweat still smells. I try to say something while his arm flexes and his fist clenches. The strobe’s still going. Each flash brings his fist closer. Split second. I can feel his knuckles in my cheek. Against my jaw.

            The strobe. The bass. The strobe goes. Can’t hear the music. Flash. Watching the room while I fall. Flash. I can see faces. Flash. Chests. Flash. Legs. Flash. Floor.