Every time I sit down here, at the computer, my first thought is “Fuck this chair.” Seriously. It takes a lot of effort to design something this unappealing. At least, I think it does. The color… it’s beyond purple. It’s like this horrid blue-ish purple that reminds me of the literary device so often used to describe clouds of foul engine or cigar smoke. The wheels jam on ANYTHING, even the tiniest bit of paper, and the back is made of this useless, flexion-less plastic that snaps remarkably easily when one stretches as much as I do, while sitting in a chair. It also doesn’t even adjust in height, which is pretty terrible for someone tall like me. I guess I really do need to browbeat someone into driving me to the mall to go get a new chair.
Oh dear, oh dear me. I went to watch a movie, and then I thought “just a little Borderlands before bed.” Oh god. By my clock, that was over 4 hours ago. Jesus.
And then there’s the small detail of my Steam Community Profile, which… does not lie. It can’t. Unlike me! :3
Now, to sleep… and a HORRIBLE tomorrow. Bleh.
Excitement!
Currently loving Coma Baby’s “Body Weekend”, along with the usual “Love Me Hate Me Kiss Me Kill Me”.
I’m successfully writing for my Div III, with a review meeting on Tuesday. Thinking of blocking out some quiet time Monday, maybe skipping work, just sitting with my bottle of Jack Daniel’s and staring off into space, in the vein of what Warren Ellis is doing in the coming days.
Writing, it’s a funny thing. You want to avoid self-censorship, but at the same time, you want to edit it. You should write EVERYTHING, but you only want some things. When you’re out of ideas, when it’s all dried up, THAT’S when you keep pushing and get the great stuff.
I really hope that I can do this, this mod I’m building. I hope. I really want to.
Into the unknown!
Ok, so, you know how I thought the previous image was cool? It is AS NOTHING compared to this one. Watch it. All of it.
(Click through for the awesome.)
Art imitates life.
In Deathfest, this semester, I had a certain character in my Tier 2 game… He began Tier 1 as Bruce Wayne, the playboy millionaire, with no gear or real abilities to speak of. Over the course of the tier, he fashioned a Batman costume, complete with utility belt, out of miscellaneous crap and the remains of his foes. In Tier 2, midway through, he relieved the Green Lantern ring as a token of respect for helping an old hobo. Thus, he became the BatLantern. And went on to win Deathfest, natch.
I thought that this was some kind of bizarre coincidence, some unholy meshing of power that was never meant to be… I was wrong.
Personality
I don’t know how personal information keep seeping into all of my online lives, but here it is again. I’ll keep it short and bitter.
I thought I knew agony. I thought it was sleeping under the bed that the one you love is in, knowing she’s in there with your replacement. Maybe that’s one part, but the other is knowing, so ineffably, that what separates you and what you should have is only 5 feet and a wall. She’s in there, and if she were in here, it would mean a different world. You want her so badly you taste blood in your mouth, like a drug you want again so badly, an addiction you never wanted to quit.
But one of them put you in rehab, broken and alone. You kicked it, but then it came back full force, smashing you, making you crave it again, in the sickest, most perverted way, wanting to hurt, to bleed, to weep, as long as someone else was doing it to you.
This is life. Life hurts.
- 15:46 Dear interwebs, it is your fault that when I hear the word ‘bifurcated’ I immediately think ‘penis’ #
Sadly, this is true for me, as well.
reblogged from rachelsoma
Something I do not care for:
When I am told to take responsibility for something that is in no way my fault or responsibility.
In the finest tradition of MENTLEGEN, I give you- BEETSHITTLES. Now I need to make an image macro for it.
Marvellous Modernity
You want modern marvels? Screw construction vehicles, weaponry, the internet, and computing. Think medicine. I have developed a condition that, a mere two generations ago, would have probably killed me. It’s pretty innocuous, as far as medical problems go: basically I have trench foot in my mouth, a perfect storm of bacteria eating away at my gums and necrotizing them. Kinda distractingly painful, but not too bad. The problem? Eventually, the bacteria eat their way completely through the gums and start on the bone. That creates peridontitis, meaning your teeth start to fall out due to having nothing to keep them in. Of course, by that point you’re totally screwed anyway- you’ve probably got blood poisoning from the infection. Bye-bye. This probably happens over the course of a month or so. Funnily enough, even though I waited over a week to go to the dentist, it hadn’t spread at all, like it’s supposed to, completely enveloping your whole mouth in horrible. The reason? I’m a boneheaded masochist, and I brushed the damm thing until the pain threatened to make me pass out, and then mouthwashed for a solid minute, twice a day, for three or four days. I was drooling blood for MINUTES afterward, each time.
This, of course, is probably an indicator of an unhealthy attitude towards my body- I guess I figure if I punish or torque it hard enough, I can fix parts of it through sheer bloody-minded force of will. It’s worked before: I got rid of a viral wart infection by cutting the damm things off, every day, until they stopped growing back. I’ve superglued cuts shut because they kept reopening, and doused fingers bleeding from nailbiting in rubbing alcohol. Hell, the only thing I haven’t done yet, I think, is cauterize a wound with an open flame, and I’ve come pretty close- holding my bleeding thumb on a 100* plastic steering wheel for five minutes straight, just so it would stop getting blood all over my hands.
A funny side effect of this is, of course, that I do tend to start bleeding at the drop of a hat. I almost never notice, so people give me this horrified look and go “oh my god, you’re bleeding!” I usually go “Oh. Whatever.” It REALLY disturbs people, for some reason.
