Hey all, for all who are interested in how my weekend was, keep reading; all others... eat me.
'Twas Thursday night when the Mrs. and I descended upon the town of movies (Movie Towne) to watch the video release of Frank Miller's epic comic book tale - 300. The movie was good, but let me start by calling the casting director of the movie a home wrecker and a dark angel of male insecurities; here's why:
I'm sitting next to my girl in the movie and I find that she's rather quiet. So I turned my head and I swear to you, when I looked over at her all I saw was the rippled, greased down lower region of the male torso reflecting in her eyes - right at that moment she looked back at me and she was like "Oh my gosh, look at those SEXY abs" then she made a sound like a grunt or a purr or some kind of audible satisfaction indicator. Now, this, my friend, is a prime example of how us Trinis only like our shit imported - we don't deal with that local nonsesne. I have abs, I can grease them down (as a matter of fact I have) and I don't get compliments like that; but some Dave Navarro looking character does it and it's all sexy all of a sudden. Another thing is that if I were to prance around in leather jockey shorts with boots, a sword and a flowing red cape screaming "This is DIEGO!!!!", it will be anything bust sexy to the local lusting females. I might even get beaten down by some cops and pressed with a drug charge.
Home wrecking and imparted jealousy aside, 300 is a good film with intense action and offers something for everybody, and by everybody I mean every kind of sexual fetish imaginable -
Under aged nude girls having seizures - [X]
Overly buff man seemingly overpowering fragile female - [X]
Rape - [X]
Haunch back leather draws ass-shot [XXXXXX]
If you're not interested in any of those then what kind of freak are you? :p
So that was the movie...
Friday night arrived and a viewing of a school play was in order... but before we get to that, let's take a trip back in time.........
Two weeks ago:
This was when I was invited to the play by the Mrs. and was offered 3 tickets - one for me, one for mom and one for my sis. The ticket offer was refused because mom had a friend who had some tickets on reserve. We were still going to the play, though.
Thursday night:
The movie was finished and my mom dropped my girlfriend off at her house. Before we left the car, she asked mom if we were still coming to the play tomorrow to which my mom responded with a very vigorous and hyper active "yes". I walked my girl to her door, said goodnight and that was that.
Friday - 5:00pm
I walk in the bedroom only to hear my mother and my sister in their usual conspiracy development sessions, plotting at how to fuck up my life more (metaphorically speaking). I was under the misconception that the play started at 6 so I was about to ask mom when she was going to start to get ready, but she interrupted my question to ask my sister "when is (your boyfriend) coming to pick you up?". I took a step back, my jaw slightly ajar with disgust. Knowing my sister as being the usual traitor to the family i.e. one to put water over blood (I told you she was a fish) I just chalked it up as one of her "I'm too good to spend time with you losers" moments and just brushed it off. Shortly after, I heard mom saying that she's going to get ready for church. At this point I said to myself "what the fuck?" So I'm really confused now because I thought we had a play scheduled for viewing. I go to my mom and I ask her - "Aren't we supposed to go to the play tonight?" and then she was like "Oh shucks, I forgot to to tell you, our tickets got sold". Now audience, I'm not ashamed to say it, I'm pissing mad at this point!
Friday - 5:28pm
I call my girlfriend and in a very sheepish tone of voice asked her if she still had the tickets that she offered me a few weeks ago. Is it just me or does that request sound a bit ridiculous? Anyway, she said no, as was expected. She did tell me, however, that tickets will be sold at the venue; so I saw hope yet. She also said that she would be there by about 7:30 so that in itself was a time limit. I officially felt like that dude from 24 - I was on a mission - get to the venue, get an admission ticket and be calm and ready for her arrival OR be denied entry and slip through the crack in the exit and trudge my sad ass home before my girlfriend showed up. If I didn't get that ticket, I felt like I would have embarrassed her on so many levels... more levels than there are on Super Mario for the NES. Think about it - everybody at her school knows my face and they know that we're associated so if I were to go there all dressed up and pressed up only to be denied entry to the event then I think that that would give her some kind of label like "you is d girl who man come d play d odda day an en get een?" I would never forgive myself.
6:54pm
Mom dropped me at the auditorium on her way to church - the crowd is scarce - not many people there to taunt me about my blatant rejection if it came to that. I approach the entrance with bulging eyes, looking out for any ticket scalpers. None in sight.
I enter the lobby area and approach the box office. I ask for a ticket. They say they have no extras. I feel the urine escaping my bladder. I quietly take a seat and twiddle my thumbs. There was a lady next to me and like a desperate ticket whore I asked "Lady, you got any tickets? I'll wash your car, man!" She just looked at me with pitiful eyes and explained to me a strategy to score a ticket - she said that everybody who reserved tickets aren't coming and if I hung around the box office long enough I can overhear one of those such cases and swoop in and snatch the opportunity.
7:15pm
I stand in front of the box office, sweating like a slave in a wood shed. I make Clint Eastwood style eye contact with the admissions officer - I swore I saw her mouthing "Do you feel lucky, punk?" through the bullet proof window. I put my hands in my pocket, the blue note dancing about my fingers chanting "you'll never get to spend me, ha ha ha".
7:21pm
My girlfriend was nearly at the location, the admissions officer gurned at me. At this point, I was formulating how to make my disappointed exit as suave and seamless as possible, but I asked God for a miracle just one more time. At that moment, two girls walked in and stepped up to the counter. They had a ticket that was reserved but not paid for and the person would not be attending the play tonight. Breakaway slave's bliss possessed me and I just let out one of those audible satisfaction sounds, though mine sounded more like urination relief. I pasted myself up on the admission glass and shoved the money through the slot. You'd never think that a nigger would be this happy for a piece of torn bristol board.
7:34pm
After minutes of ticket worship and giving praises to God, I got a call from that special someone asking if I got the ticket. I replied with a very proud positive answer and hung up. Just then, I caught a glimpse of a family of four - ticket less and well dressed. If you think I was about to give up my own, then it goes to show how much you don't know me - it's every nigger for himself, bitch!
8:16pm
She arrives with her dad and the three of us proceeded to watch the show.
I'll tell you one thing though, when I laid eyes on her for the first time that night, I thought that the goddess of all things exceptionally beautiful and ideal, stepped down from high atop Mount Olympus herself and graced me with her presence. I felt unworthy to be in her company once more. Like the astronauts who accidentally steered into the sun, I was incinerated by her beauty and blinded - by her magnificence... her radiance. She felt unreal, and dream-like to the touch but I know I wasn't sleeping for if I were having a dream about her, her dad would definitely not be in it - I guarantee it.
Anyway... the play was good an all, something about smelting. I enjoyed it, she enjoyed it and everybody followed suit. The seating arrangement was a little.... myeah. It was me, then her then her father. To anybody else this would spell "death to the suiter" but her pops is real cool. Even though there was this one time... Hmm... I felt his eyes piercing through the darkness to find me. Being in his line of sight I could hear his telepathy, it said something like "I know what you're thinking rap scallion, you ain't tossin' no salad tonight!" It could also just be me being an ass...
Either way, that's my weekend thus far. I must leave now, however. I've got an overseas call to make to that goddess from last night - yeah I got the number. I work fast, homie ;)
Saturday, March 31, 2007
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Port Forwarding
Eve
rybody in my country is finally getting up2ditime and getting this DSL thing. That's all well and good, but because just like soca, piracy is in the genetic make-up of our people, we are left high and dry when it comes to getting that fix of ill-gotten software that we need. As we all know, Bittorrrent and all other torrent clients and even P2P clients like Limewire seldom work at giving us that much lusted for 32Kbps download speed.
Fear not! For Kevin has found a solution. Here is a tutorial on how to configure your router (the black box that TSTT gives you) for Port Forwarding... but first, you need to download a Bittorrent client. I highly recommend uTorrent over all of them (even Azureus) because it's lightweight and easy to use.
Then you need to set up your computer with a static IP address. Learn how to do so here. The general principle can be applied when setting up other file sharing applications or BT clients.
The only thing is that you may have to make a separate entry for UDP utilization but it's simpler than it sounds. Do the same thing that yo did when you were setting up the TCP option, but insert UDP in the TCP slot.
I guarantee you, it works:
At the bottom of the image, you'll see my download speed (not at max, but only because I'm using some bandwidth to make this entry.) As you can see I'll have God of War 2 by Thursday bitches!!
My own version of Deviant Art lol! Gotta say I'm getting better at this cell-shading thing...
rybody in my country is finally getting up2ditime and getting this DSL thing. That's all well and good, but because just like soca, piracy is in the genetic make-up of our people, we are left high and dry when it comes to getting that fix of ill-gotten software that we need. As we all know, Bittorrrent and all other torrent clients and even P2P clients like Limewire seldom work at giving us that much lusted for 32Kbps download speed.Fear not! For Kevin has found a solution. Here is a tutorial on how to configure your router (the black box that TSTT gives you) for Port Forwarding... but first, you need to download a Bittorrent client. I highly recommend uTorrent over all of them (even Azureus) because it's lightweight and easy to use.
Then you need to set up your computer with a static IP address. Learn how to do so here. The general principle can be applied when setting up other file sharing applications or BT clients.
The only thing is that you may have to make a separate entry for UDP utilization but it's simpler than it sounds. Do the same thing that yo did when you were setting up the TCP option, but insert UDP in the TCP slot.
I guarantee you, it works:
At the bottom of the image, you'll see my download speed (not at max, but only because I'm using some bandwidth to make this entry.) As you can see I'll have God of War 2 by Thursday bitches!!
My own version of Deviant Art lol! Gotta say I'm getting better at this cell-shading thing...
Friday, March 23, 2007
Etiquette 101
For far too long I have been a "good guy". For far too long have I sat idly by with a cauldron cover the size of Japan dancing nervously over the sea of molten, venomous words that undulates restlessly in my mouth. People who have been unfortunate enough to be singed by the steam vapours and because of this, have called me an insensitive jerk, have yet to feel the full emotional and psychological burn of what my words can do to a person.
OK it's like this - I'm a nice guy: respectful, tolerant and generally very pleasant to be around as I am indeed sensitive to other people's feelings and I can sense certain topics, that when spoken on around a certain individual can indeed be a little pressure blotch for them. Apparently the rest of this world is not like me. I think it probably stems from the one instance that I took shit (taking shit: being spoken to rudely and don't respond with a flury of cuss words) from somebody and now everybody else seems to mistake me for a toilet. I seem to be a target for people who "don't have a cover fro their mouth" a.k.a. "Fuckin' assholes" in my book, to show to the world just how coverless, raw, uncouth and uncaring their mouth is.
Jot this down in history folks: the first morally correct entry of the Diego Deviant’s history
Case Study No. 1: Internet Acquaintances
Let’s say you post pictures on a website like Hi5 to show the world just how perty you look. You look nice in the pictures, but when I meet you in person you look like you ass felt a chill and sneaked upstairs to hug your face and somewhere along the line, the two merged, making you look like a cross between a cross-section of a loaf of bread and a sea cow on the verge of death.
How I would handle it (the disappointment of your hideousness): I would greet you politely, talk to you normally, end the date gracefully and hopefully never see you again.
How the “coverless mouth” people would handle it: “oh gosh, how you lookin’ so? You en look like nuttin’ I see in dem pictures, gosh you OGLEE!!!... No offense eh (sheepish laugh)”
Two things, if you think being discourteous is cute – it’s not. And “no offence” DOESN’T FUCKIN’ CUT IT!!!! You’re just as bad as a racist.
I get that a lot by the way. Not about my ugliness (‘cause I’m not) but about mostly my stature and size. You see, I’ve got bareback pictures of me up on Hi5 where I’m all flexing muscle and stuff, but please bitches, don’t expect to see my abs through my cotton shirt and under vest – they don’t show like that. You can’t look at somebody and just “detect abs” either. My posture is bad and I’m trying to fix it so I admit, my chest does look a bit concave but if I were greased down and shiny all the time (like in my pictures), I don’t think I’d be very popular at social functions now would I? As for my height, I’m no Shaquille O’Neal but I am an average male. I’m 17 people, not 35. I can only grow so much at a time, I’m not an adult yet and I’m already the average height of a man – I’ll get taller, don’t worry, it’s in my family. Oh, and you bitches who are 4’11”, breaking your back to see past my zipper and then saying “oh gosh boy, you real short!” – you’re just looking for company. For you bitches who are 6’7” and folding in half or looking under your Tobago sized feet to find me – you need to lose your testicles and stay off the ‘roids.
What you see in the pictures is what you get in real life. I’m not the sad nerd who’ll put his head on Arnold’s body and say “Oh yeah, that’s me!” – Relax, it’s all there.
Case Study No. 2:
Remember when I said that saying “no offence” before you insult somebody to ease the blow doesn’t cut it? Here’s what I mean:
A girl would tell you “No offence eh, but your hands remind me of monkey feet… I’m quite fond of monkeys…” That’s all well and good, but when you extract the essence of the compliment, it actually says that your hands look like monkey’s feet – that’s not cool. How’s a person not supposed to take offence to that? Here’s the same compliment, but taken to the extreme:
“No offence eh, but you face reminds me of my ass. I find my ass is just gorgeous and I think you look like it.” Compliment in essence: ass face!
“No offence” does not cut it. If you think you need to say that before telling somebody something, don’t say it at all.
Case Study No. 3:
You and your morbidly obese friend are sitting having a drink at a restaurant. You go to the bathroom to use the scale and find that you put on two or three pounds. You come back to the table and the topic of weight comes up. You look at you friend ad say “Oh my gosh, I’m getting so fat! I mean, just look at this…” at this point you reach under your blouse to pull on the two ounces of fat lining your stomach walls to show it off. A disgusted look is on your face and you’re looking at your friend whose eyes are buried under her eyebrow fat, has a nearly infinitely recursive array of chins, tits the size of your torso and a leg so wide it blocks traffic. How do you think this person is feeling right now as she desperately jitters for the menu to call the waiter whom she hopes by share miracle will bring on a change of topic? Basically what you’re lining up your friend to say is “So what are you gonna say about me then?” Worse yet if you’re in a group and you’re pointing out the one vanity pound in your waist – everybody looks at you then looks at your friend, the obvious thing to say is on everybody’s lips but nobody says it. This is what I like to call loud silence.
Come on people, think of your worst feature, something about your physical self that you wish you could change then think of you on a stage – the spotlight is on you and everybody’s pointing and laughing at that one feature that you wish nobody would notice. If you’re looking down at the keyboard and having a deep thought then give yourself a pat on the back, if not then eat shit!
I’m not a pussy boy who cries to his mom every time somebody tells me something rude, but I must admit that I do take a lot of shit from people. Take today for example:
I come home to my grandmother’s house after climbing the nearly acute La Puerta hill and escaping the searing clutches of the outside sun; I’m as tired as a runaway slave and just as hungry. I eat half of my rations and put the other half down to go and watch a small parade outside. I come back after two minutes and my aunt’s scraping my fuckin’ plate man! That was not cool! And worse yet, she’s making those ridiculous sounds that the Sims make when they’re eating. I just stood there, demanded no compensation (even though she offered) and let the gas from the Coca-Cola fill the empty space in my stomach.
That was the breaking-point that led to the creation of this blog entry. Like Boys 2 Girls – I’ve had enough.
I am now faced with a crucial decision: do I allow the world to taint my pleasant nature and become a profanity spewing hurt machine that thrives on vengeance and the metaphysical breakdown of others? Or do I continue along my path of tolerance and hope that other people take a page from my book and learn that different people react differently to certain things? Well my name ain’t Ghandi, so the second option’s out… lol jk – I’ll think about it.
And this concludes this session of Etiquette 101.
Thursday, March 08, 2007
Thursday
As the title may have suggested to you, there's nothing really interesting about this entry - just a little check-up to pass the time until something good starts on TV. So how would I describe today? It was... myeah... a little interesting yet overly regular, like watching a fast forwarded video of water turning to ice. Well I got up this morning (late) and did a little carbon copying with my physics assignment - so much copying that i didn't care what the numbers meant after a while, all that mattered was getting to the next line (Thanks D., you saved my skin from the dreaded zero mark.) Now don't look to wag that shame finger at me, I know what I'm doing... copying :P
By about half past nine the assignment was done and I spent the next 15 minutes looking for a GTA Vice City Stories NTSC torrent. While doing that though, I felt common sense and it's distant cousin, academia, tapping me on my shoulder and whispering their beings into my ear, so I picked up the phone and phoned my College Correspondent to find out what time classes were starting. She said that the lecturer just walked in. I peeled myself off of my computer chair, did the normal cleansing routine and dressed for school.
While slipping into my new ridiculously comfortable underwear, I noticed one of my favorite shows - Brainiac - going on, so I stopped to watched and learn that the world's greatest dart player is eight times better than the average one... fascinating (Keep in mind that this is 20 mins past 10 - class started 20 mins ago).
Feeling contented with my new found knowledge, I rushed down the street to get a taxi. Within rwo minutes, my ass was half immersed in the sewage leak that is this country's public transportation system. The ride was normal, but the music was awful! It was so bad that when I reached my destination, I felt like I was paying the driver to let me out rather than rewarding him for his service. While traversing to the Wrightson Rd. taxi stand, I caught a glimpse of the sexier side of the country's labor force who were rooted in the same quagmire of tardiness as I was - thank goodness for dysfunctional alarm clocks and black laziness...
So I'm on my next taxi stand and gettin a taxi, again, was easy enough except for one little twist. Now this is something that is so strange, yet so ordinary; so coincidental that the circumstance had to be the bastard child of fate and probability; so shocking that I went through all the stages of emotional and physical shock and reverted to my normal state within seconds - I saw my girldfriend's mom! DUN DUN DUN!!! (OK maybe that was a little too much hype and yes, the lady does live in the country and in the vicinity but it really was a shocker for me). Ok so being the gentleman that I am, I held the door for her and let her get in. I sat next to her and exchanged regular greetings, but I know that this was going to be one long-ass ride. N.M.B. (NOTA MUY BIEN!!) I have nothing against this woman and I don't *think* that she has anything against me but just the other day, me and her daughter (my girlfriend) had an argument on a RATHER touchy topic and it happened to reach into the supreme court of her motherly council. What the actual issue is i'm too ashamed to say on such a public medium but I can emphasize the sensitivity of the matter - think salt on an open wound...
So we're in the car, her expression - Italian nun, mine - dog on a busy highway. She's sitting right next to me and I can sense a great disturbance in the atmosphere, something eerie and more deadly than the fumes from the Semi driving alongside. I did try to speak to her, make "taxi conversation" to pass the time we'll be spending in the bumper to bumper traffic, but every string of words that came out of my mouth was a sentence more incoherent and further disjointed from the last - I felt like I was in the lion's den with Daniel, but there was only one lion, Daniel used the emergency exit and God was listening to the latest Kirk Franklin album on his iPod - in other words, screwed.
My eyes twitched nervously in their sockets ans I tried to fish out conversation topics from the panning scenery but the best that I could come up with was asking questions about stuff I really should be knowing as a citizen of Trinidad, but didn't care about. I'm sure she was probably normal and shoving me through the window was the furthest thing from her mind but paranoia is what keeps negros alive. I played my cards right and found sick comfort in the uncomfortable silence until she reached her destination and got out. So, I lived.
School was as you would expect. I did reach late for the class, but all I seemed to miss was a digram and about two paragraphs of notes; I did make it up in the second hour though. What was strange and somewhat disheartening was that all the female teachers seemed a little cold today, especially the one that i'm interested in. Her responses seemed hollow and tormented... was it because she saw my status on Hi5? It can't be! My ex-computer teacher however, seemed to be in one of her usual bad moods, no harm no foul. I took her down-in-the-throat greetings and just threw them into my bin of Never Mind. Had some lunch, had some laughs, did some work - that was school.
Sorry guys, the trip home was pretty average.
When I got home though, the day was middle aged, so I took the time to sit and reflect. I came up with this saying: "When times get you down, beating yourself up won't get you back up"
Illustration:
By about half past nine the assignment was done and I spent the next 15 minutes looking for a GTA Vice City Stories NTSC torrent. While doing that though, I felt common sense and it's distant cousin, academia, tapping me on my shoulder and whispering their beings into my ear, so I picked up the phone and phoned my College Correspondent to find out what time classes were starting. She said that the lecturer just walked in. I peeled myself off of my computer chair, did the normal cleansing routine and dressed for school.
While slipping into my new ridiculously comfortable underwear, I noticed one of my favorite shows - Brainiac - going on, so I stopped to watched and learn that the world's greatest dart player is eight times better than the average one... fascinating (Keep in mind that this is 20 mins past 10 - class started 20 mins ago).
Feeling contented with my new found knowledge, I rushed down the street to get a taxi. Within rwo minutes, my ass was half immersed in the sewage leak that is this country's public transportation system. The ride was normal, but the music was awful! It was so bad that when I reached my destination, I felt like I was paying the driver to let me out rather than rewarding him for his service. While traversing to the Wrightson Rd. taxi stand, I caught a glimpse of the sexier side of the country's labor force who were rooted in the same quagmire of tardiness as I was - thank goodness for dysfunctional alarm clocks and black laziness...
So I'm on my next taxi stand and gettin a taxi, again, was easy enough except for one little twist. Now this is something that is so strange, yet so ordinary; so coincidental that the circumstance had to be the bastard child of fate and probability; so shocking that I went through all the stages of emotional and physical shock and reverted to my normal state within seconds - I saw my girldfriend's mom! DUN DUN DUN!!! (OK maybe that was a little too much hype and yes, the lady does live in the country and in the vicinity but it really was a shocker for me). Ok so being the gentleman that I am, I held the door for her and let her get in. I sat next to her and exchanged regular greetings, but I know that this was going to be one long-ass ride. N.M.B. (NOTA MUY BIEN!!) I have nothing against this woman and I don't *think* that she has anything against me but just the other day, me and her daughter (my girlfriend) had an argument on a RATHER touchy topic and it happened to reach into the supreme court of her motherly council. What the actual issue is i'm too ashamed to say on such a public medium but I can emphasize the sensitivity of the matter - think salt on an open wound...
So we're in the car, her expression - Italian nun, mine - dog on a busy highway. She's sitting right next to me and I can sense a great disturbance in the atmosphere, something eerie and more deadly than the fumes from the Semi driving alongside. I did try to speak to her, make "taxi conversation" to pass the time we'll be spending in the bumper to bumper traffic, but every string of words that came out of my mouth was a sentence more incoherent and further disjointed from the last - I felt like I was in the lion's den with Daniel, but there was only one lion, Daniel used the emergency exit and God was listening to the latest Kirk Franklin album on his iPod - in other words, screwed.
My eyes twitched nervously in their sockets ans I tried to fish out conversation topics from the panning scenery but the best that I could come up with was asking questions about stuff I really should be knowing as a citizen of Trinidad, but didn't care about. I'm sure she was probably normal and shoving me through the window was the furthest thing from her mind but paranoia is what keeps negros alive. I played my cards right and found sick comfort in the uncomfortable silence until she reached her destination and got out. So, I lived.
School was as you would expect. I did reach late for the class, but all I seemed to miss was a digram and about two paragraphs of notes; I did make it up in the second hour though. What was strange and somewhat disheartening was that all the female teachers seemed a little cold today, especially the one that i'm interested in. Her responses seemed hollow and tormented... was it because she saw my status on Hi5? It can't be! My ex-computer teacher however, seemed to be in one of her usual bad moods, no harm no foul. I took her down-in-the-throat greetings and just threw them into my bin of Never Mind. Had some lunch, had some laughs, did some work - that was school.
Sorry guys, the trip home was pretty average.
When I got home though, the day was middle aged, so I took the time to sit and reflect. I came up with this saying: "When times get you down, beating yourself up won't get you back up"
Illustration:
Saturday, March 03, 2007
What's Been Happening
According to the Max Payne Independent Movie Blog - I'm no Vista... I'm not even so much of a critical security update, I'm more like a system check to make sure everything's running just fine (There's a little love to my Windows geeks out there ;). This "system check" would run a lot smoother, however, if that bitch next door would do me the favour of slitting her throat and gutting out her own cursed vocal cords. I have never heard such bad singing since... I honestly can't remember! The song this lost Siren sister laments is like a haunting from the house of pain. I don't want to go outside and boisterously voice my humble "constructive criticism" because it is a religious song and all are entitled to praise The Lord in any way the deem fit, but I do know a certain bucket of water who holds no qualms about ridding himself of his splashy liquid content by inverting himself over all those who offend him. He's kind of short so I might have to give him a hand ;) The random compilation of notes could very well be my sanity's requiem.
From here on, I could go on about the trouble I got into last week with my late registration, how me and my mom are not on speaking terms at the moment and all that other negative emotional baggage that I'm carrying, but I think I'll spend it by weirding out my audience by what I'm seeing right now.
Have you ever noticed the sky? I mean really looked at it? It's always there - relaxing in a hammock of indefinite suspension, unable to be reached by anyone who was daring enough to try. It just exists for the purpose of existing, changing colors without a care, never trying to hold on to it's last celestial paint job and never unwilling to receive another.
During the early hours of the day, it's eye is wide, it's body is hot like an adrenaline addict who exerts himself until the velocity of his blood tears his veins and his heart desperately pumps battery acid. It's blue youth radiates its energy - a shower of vibrancy never ending. A shower that drenches those lucky enough to receive it, dissolving their chains of fatigue.
As the shower comes to an end and it's last drops reluctantly tear themselves away from the rims of their reservoirs, the sky begins to die. We bleed it of it's youth and energy.
As the sky lies on it's death bed, twilight crawls across it's body like a devious cancer drowning it's light. The amalgamated colors of sunset lose their vibrancy and they camouflage into their black backdrop, slowly but surely, like a student in a new school trying to get lost in the crowd.
It continues to die as our eyes seamlessly convert to the most sensitive of heat detectors. We gaze above and see nothing but the cold, dead thermal readings of a massive body that once diligently looked over us. A monochromatic symphony of completion, transformation... praise.
Now, the sky hangs there - It's skin as black as death, with pores teeming with the last of its heat still trapped within their shallow vallies. The moon's brightness attempts to spoil our eyes as the clouds converge over us, like a parent shielding its children from the sight of death - hiding the living example of how the mighty have fallen. We turn away from the tragedy and retreat to the loving, comforting arms of rest while we mourn subconsciously and wait for the hour until we see the sky's bright young face again.
MMMMMM... Trippy!... I love being high....
From here on, I could go on about the trouble I got into last week with my late registration, how me and my mom are not on speaking terms at the moment and all that other negative emotional baggage that I'm carrying, but I think I'll spend it by weirding out my audience by what I'm seeing right now.
Have you ever noticed the sky? I mean really looked at it? It's always there - relaxing in a hammock of indefinite suspension, unable to be reached by anyone who was daring enough to try. It just exists for the purpose of existing, changing colors without a care, never trying to hold on to it's last celestial paint job and never unwilling to receive another.
During the early hours of the day, it's eye is wide, it's body is hot like an adrenaline addict who exerts himself until the velocity of his blood tears his veins and his heart desperately pumps battery acid. It's blue youth radiates its energy - a shower of vibrancy never ending. A shower that drenches those lucky enough to receive it, dissolving their chains of fatigue.
As the shower comes to an end and it's last drops reluctantly tear themselves away from the rims of their reservoirs, the sky begins to die. We bleed it of it's youth and energy.
As the sky lies on it's death bed, twilight crawls across it's body like a devious cancer drowning it's light. The amalgamated colors of sunset lose their vibrancy and they camouflage into their black backdrop, slowly but surely, like a student in a new school trying to get lost in the crowd.
It continues to die as our eyes seamlessly convert to the most sensitive of heat detectors. We gaze above and see nothing but the cold, dead thermal readings of a massive body that once diligently looked over us. A monochromatic symphony of completion, transformation... praise.
Now, the sky hangs there - It's skin as black as death, with pores teeming with the last of its heat still trapped within their shallow vallies. The moon's brightness attempts to spoil our eyes as the clouds converge over us, like a parent shielding its children from the sight of death - hiding the living example of how the mighty have fallen. We turn away from the tragedy and retreat to the loving, comforting arms of rest while we mourn subconsciously and wait for the hour until we see the sky's bright young face again.
MMMMMM... Trippy!... I love being high....
Sunday, February 04, 2007
From the Chuuuch to the Palace
Well what do ya' know? It's another Sunday morning. To me, Sunday is all about preparing for Monday, and it's so much the case that I wake up to the same screaming life giver, tired eyes and that haunting call of the shower's heater... grrrrr! The only difference between today and it's successor is the fact that I'm not going to school, but I'm still going to a place where listening, learning and not playing games on my cell phone are still the order of the day. The good thing is that it doesn't last as long as school does.
The place I'm speaking of is Church. I know this is a touchy topic since it's supposed to be a place of The Lord and people should actually WANT to go there, but visions of youth perfection aside, I'd rather be at home playing Splinter Cell (Chaos Theory not the stripped down version of Double Agent). Don't get me wrong, I'm no heathen as a matter of fact most of the choices I've made in my life stemmed from what knowledge I have of The Lord's teachings and I do in fact talk to Him pretty often. I'm talking to Him right now as a matter of fact asking Him to not strike me down for writing about His house... I'm sure He has bigger fish to fry anyway. PLUS! Every time I mention His sacred pronouns, I put the "H" in upper case and so forth.
Now that The Lord knows that this is nothing serious, we can get on to the coverage of My Day at the Holy Sanctuary.
Ok where do I begin.. Ummm... Mom screaming... couldn't find socks.... underwear... Ah! Here we go, now I know that all are welcomed in The Lord's house (m'kay) but somebody forgot to mention the policy about sanitation and bio-hazards. See, There was this fat lady in the row in front of me- she had a cold or something, anyway all I'm saying is I've never heard so much blowing since the last Kenny G. concert! My God! There was a point in time where I thought she was going to blow her brains out. I actually heard the mucus peeling off of her nasal cartilage; then she took the rag and really (I man really) rubbed her nose all up in it. Any more and she would have sanded it down to Michal Jackson perfection. For the rest of the service though, she was quiet and she only blew her nose when she heard subtle background music that she thought drowned out her symphony of disgust... what thought can make a person do.
The original Pastor of the church wasn't there this morning but his substitute was just as good. She had no problems keeping the friendly, yet quiet atmosphere while delivering a gripping message. I invite all my readers to visit my church one Sunday. Don't come if you didn't get enough sleep because you won't be able to enjoy it comfortably. Though the service is never boring, if you are black (like me) then the soft seats and the A/C will definitely put your ass right back to sleep, which happens to conflict with the "No Sleeping" policy :( . I go to Trinidad Christian Center and you'll have to look up the address in the phone book because I don't know where it is because my mommy drops me :) Take it from me, you will fall back to sleep! Satan's clothes pins had a nice pinch on my eye lids this morning, I'll tell you that; one of the few times I liked to put my head down and pray (head down, eyes closed - kind of like sleeping... which I was doing - forgive me Lord)
So that was the service portion. Not many juicy details there... nor in the next portion:
So the service was over and it's time to leave. The preacher lady told us to greet somebody on our way out... pssh!! Yeah right!! Negro, I was out my lane, in the aisle and by the exit faster than it takes for me to fail Chem (which I should be studying - steups!) My rapid exit was hindered by my mom's sudden obsession to horde all things Gospel - she went to the opposite side of the church to get this CD with God, mommy and whoever else was paying attention knows what was on it. It was because of her obsessive impulse, that I ended up behind this stupid pair of ladies inching their way toward the exit. People! This is church not the damn DMV - Move it along!
On the outside the sun was a cruel monster. The trek to the car park seemed longer than usual. Funny how Satan's clothes pins left my eye lids when I came outside... is it because he hates hot places... nah, can't be! I'm glad to know that it's not just me "hating" to go to church that has me so sleepy during the sermon but it is, in fact, genuine fatigue. I'm just as tired as I was in church as I'm writing this. I'm not as tired, however when I set my foot out the door of the Sanctuary... Change of environment give me energy, perhaps? Whatever.
So yeah, that's all there was to it. I'm home now, gonna take a nap, get up and start some Chem and I invite you once again to visit my place of worship, I promise it'll be a new worship experience for you. It's only from 8-11, comfortable environment, interesting messages, no babies crying and that lady's cold should pass by the time you visit.
Have a blessed day!
The place I'm speaking of is Church. I know this is a touchy topic since it's supposed to be a place of The Lord and people should actually WANT to go there, but visions of youth perfection aside, I'd rather be at home playing Splinter Cell (Chaos Theory not the stripped down version of Double Agent). Don't get me wrong, I'm no heathen as a matter of fact most of the choices I've made in my life stemmed from what knowledge I have of The Lord's teachings and I do in fact talk to Him pretty often. I'm talking to Him right now as a matter of fact asking Him to not strike me down for writing about His house... I'm sure He has bigger fish to fry anyway. PLUS! Every time I mention His sacred pronouns, I put the "H" in upper case and so forth.
Now that The Lord knows that this is nothing serious, we can get on to the coverage of My Day at the Holy Sanctuary.
Ok where do I begin.. Ummm... Mom screaming... couldn't find socks.... underwear... Ah! Here we go, now I know that all are welcomed in The Lord's house (m'kay) but somebody forgot to mention the policy about sanitation and bio-hazards. See, There was this fat lady in the row in front of me- she had a cold or something, anyway all I'm saying is I've never heard so much blowing since the last Kenny G. concert! My God! There was a point in time where I thought she was going to blow her brains out. I actually heard the mucus peeling off of her nasal cartilage; then she took the rag and really (I man really) rubbed her nose all up in it. Any more and she would have sanded it down to Michal Jackson perfection. For the rest of the service though, she was quiet and she only blew her nose when she heard subtle background music that she thought drowned out her symphony of disgust... what thought can make a person do.
The original Pastor of the church wasn't there this morning but his substitute was just as good. She had no problems keeping the friendly, yet quiet atmosphere while delivering a gripping message. I invite all my readers to visit my church one Sunday. Don't come if you didn't get enough sleep because you won't be able to enjoy it comfortably. Though the service is never boring, if you are black (like me) then the soft seats and the A/C will definitely put your ass right back to sleep, which happens to conflict with the "No Sleeping" policy :( . I go to Trinidad Christian Center and you'll have to look up the address in the phone book because I don't know where it is because my mommy drops me :) Take it from me, you will fall back to sleep! Satan's clothes pins had a nice pinch on my eye lids this morning, I'll tell you that; one of the few times I liked to put my head down and pray (head down, eyes closed - kind of like sleeping... which I was doing - forgive me Lord)
So that was the service portion. Not many juicy details there... nor in the next portion:
So the service was over and it's time to leave. The preacher lady told us to greet somebody on our way out... pssh!! Yeah right!! Negro, I was out my lane, in the aisle and by the exit faster than it takes for me to fail Chem (which I should be studying - steups!) My rapid exit was hindered by my mom's sudden obsession to horde all things Gospel - she went to the opposite side of the church to get this CD with God, mommy and whoever else was paying attention knows what was on it. It was because of her obsessive impulse, that I ended up behind this stupid pair of ladies inching their way toward the exit. People! This is church not the damn DMV - Move it along!
On the outside the sun was a cruel monster. The trek to the car park seemed longer than usual. Funny how Satan's clothes pins left my eye lids when I came outside... is it because he hates hot places... nah, can't be! I'm glad to know that it's not just me "hating" to go to church that has me so sleepy during the sermon but it is, in fact, genuine fatigue. I'm just as tired as I was in church as I'm writing this. I'm not as tired, however when I set my foot out the door of the Sanctuary... Change of environment give me energy, perhaps? Whatever.
So yeah, that's all there was to it. I'm home now, gonna take a nap, get up and start some Chem and I invite you once again to visit my place of worship, I promise it'll be a new worship experience for you. It's only from 8-11, comfortable environment, interesting messages, no babies crying and that lady's cold should pass by the time you visit.
Have a blessed day!
Sunday, January 14, 2007
Minimum Pleasure
Greetings fine people of the internet and welcome to another installment of Master Kevin's Theater. Masterpiece theater sucked ass and I think you grew out of MonsterPiece Theater by now, so please allow me to entertain you with another thrilling tale from the life of Kevin...
LMAO hahahahaha, there's nothing interesting or thrilling here, but while you're reading this crap and you've reached this far, why not continue? If you haven't picked up on it by now, the past paragraph and two lines were just my corny way of saying that nothing interesting happened recently and this is just one of those updates that I think is necessary for every blog to have.
Did you see how I coaxed you all into reading this entry? I put down a little sugar trail to excite your mental taste buds and while you dragged your tongue over the deceit the sugar crystals lay on and soaked in the release of your own endorphins, the monster that comprises of all things boring catapulted from behind a small shrub and sank its teeth into your soft, tender back meat. Don't feel bad though, that's what happened to me when I signed up for University.
The ads on the papers were so bright and colouful, teeming with whimsical lies of academic development, and I, like a naive child in a candy store tugged on the hems of my parent's garments and looked up at her with glittering eyes that said "I want to learn!" Sure enough, my tactic persuaded her and before I knew it I was hand wrapped, labeled and shipped off in a hand basket straight to the bowels of my doom.
You heard me, bowels! I'm being shit on every day I wake up to face the dreaded Chemistry archfiend. Damn it, I wish I stayed at home scratching. Four more years of this shit? NEGRO PA-LEASE!!!
Speaking of staying home, home is where I was for the past few days; writing songs depicting and encouraging wanton acts of debauchery and crime. Happy to say that as of yesterday, I scrapped my already written songs and decided to start over with some cleaner lyrics and a not-so-negative message. Instead of encouraging infidelity, sex, violence and pretty much everything that I've never experienced or been taught, I'd sing on some dancing, messing up bitches and hoes and other juvenile crap. We'll see how the public reacts to the new Mr. Breaker/DSHeep when they no longer hear me talking about Teflon tipped bullets, semi-automatic weapons, vaginas, gay dudes and the rest of weapons from my arsenal of wrong... stuff. I don't think the fans would appreciate it too much, but if it's negativity they want, then they won't be getting any more of it from me. (Thank my friend, who is a girl that I like very much, for the turn-around)
While we're on the topic of positive crap, I submitted my movie plot outline to the one and only Mr. Errol Fabien (did I get the name right?) Well, I didn't hand it to him personally, but I gave it to the TV Station's nice receptionist. I hope he calls back soon. My hope is through the roof because I have a list of actors that have been waiting for some follow up after the shooting of the first and 7th chapter of the movie. Every time I go to QRC I always get questions pertaining to the movie's progress. Don't get me wrong, I'm elated that people are still interested in the project and I can assure them that I'm trying my best to put everything in order so that when the film is done, people don't point at the screen and laugh or walk out or call it crap. I don't think you'd want your name in the credits of a movie like that do you? Actors, I'm begging for your patience.
...SO I handed in the package with the plot, my name, address and other contact information and I really hope to get a response from him soon. I'm having doubts though, because Gayelle TV is more of a family oriented channel, a channel so local that they show off everybody's Tobago shine without shame and the only thing foreign they have is the equipment (though I think I saw a bamboo camera stand the day I was at the studio lol, jk) My movie on the other hand, is a little dark, gritty and more on the mature side with a hint of American dialoge. Part 1 and 2 can scrape a PG-13 rating but part 3 is definite R. It's gonna be hard convincing a channel like that to help out with a show that has fighting, guns, robbery, kissing and strippers (ok, maybe not strippers) but I'll do whatever I can, because sacrifices have already been made and I'm not going to be the reason that a whole day of people's lives were wasted.
So that's what's been going on recently in the life of K. Sheppard. Let's recap:
- School sucks
- My music career is on the fast track to enduring the same fate of Maximus Dan's
- My movie that has a high level of grit, violence and mass criminal behavior has been submitted to a family channel and I'm expecting a response some time soon.
- Oh, and I uploaded some Minimum Pleasure (name of the movie) prequels to YouTube! Enjoy!
Minimum Pleasure Prequel: Part 1- The Beginning of the End
Minimum Pleasure Prequel: Part 2- I Swear it Was Self-Defense
3 more parts before the point where the movie starts from.
LMAO hahahahaha, there's nothing interesting or thrilling here, but while you're reading this crap and you've reached this far, why not continue? If you haven't picked up on it by now, the past paragraph and two lines were just my corny way of saying that nothing interesting happened recently and this is just one of those updates that I think is necessary for every blog to have.
Did you see how I coaxed you all into reading this entry? I put down a little sugar trail to excite your mental taste buds and while you dragged your tongue over the deceit the sugar crystals lay on and soaked in the release of your own endorphins, the monster that comprises of all things boring catapulted from behind a small shrub and sank its teeth into your soft, tender back meat. Don't feel bad though, that's what happened to me when I signed up for University.
The ads on the papers were so bright and colouful, teeming with whimsical lies of academic development, and I, like a naive child in a candy store tugged on the hems of my parent's garments and looked up at her with glittering eyes that said "I want to learn!" Sure enough, my tactic persuaded her and before I knew it I was hand wrapped, labeled and shipped off in a hand basket straight to the bowels of my doom.
You heard me, bowels! I'm being shit on every day I wake up to face the dreaded Chemistry archfiend. Damn it, I wish I stayed at home scratching. Four more years of this shit? NEGRO PA-LEASE!!!
Speaking of staying home, home is where I was for the past few days; writing songs depicting and encouraging wanton acts of debauchery and crime. Happy to say that as of yesterday, I scrapped my already written songs and decided to start over with some cleaner lyrics and a not-so-negative message. Instead of encouraging infidelity, sex, violence and pretty much everything that I've never experienced or been taught, I'd sing on some dancing, messing up bitches and hoes and other juvenile crap. We'll see how the public reacts to the new Mr. Breaker/DSHeep when they no longer hear me talking about Teflon tipped bullets, semi-automatic weapons, vaginas, gay dudes and the rest of weapons from my arsenal of wrong... stuff. I don't think the fans would appreciate it too much, but if it's negativity they want, then they won't be getting any more of it from me. (Thank my friend, who is a girl that I like very much, for the turn-around)
While we're on the topic of positive crap, I submitted my movie plot outline to the one and only Mr. Errol Fabien (did I get the name right?) Well, I didn't hand it to him personally, but I gave it to the TV Station's nice receptionist. I hope he calls back soon. My hope is through the roof because I have a list of actors that have been waiting for some follow up after the shooting of the first and 7th chapter of the movie. Every time I go to QRC I always get questions pertaining to the movie's progress. Don't get me wrong, I'm elated that people are still interested in the project and I can assure them that I'm trying my best to put everything in order so that when the film is done, people don't point at the screen and laugh or walk out or call it crap. I don't think you'd want your name in the credits of a movie like that do you? Actors, I'm begging for your patience.
...SO I handed in the package with the plot, my name, address and other contact information and I really hope to get a response from him soon. I'm having doubts though, because Gayelle TV is more of a family oriented channel, a channel so local that they show off everybody's Tobago shine without shame and the only thing foreign they have is the equipment (though I think I saw a bamboo camera stand the day I was at the studio lol, jk) My movie on the other hand, is a little dark, gritty and more on the mature side with a hint of American dialoge. Part 1 and 2 can scrape a PG-13 rating but part 3 is definite R. It's gonna be hard convincing a channel like that to help out with a show that has fighting, guns, robbery, kissing and strippers (ok, maybe not strippers) but I'll do whatever I can, because sacrifices have already been made and I'm not going to be the reason that a whole day of people's lives were wasted.
So that's what's been going on recently in the life of K. Sheppard. Let's recap:
- School sucks
- My music career is on the fast track to enduring the same fate of Maximus Dan's
- My movie that has a high level of grit, violence and mass criminal behavior has been submitted to a family channel and I'm expecting a response some time soon.
- Oh, and I uploaded some Minimum Pleasure (name of the movie) prequels to YouTube! Enjoy!
Minimum Pleasure Prequel: Part 1- The Beginning of the End
Minimum Pleasure Prequel: Part 2- I Swear it Was Self-Defense
3 more parts before the point where the movie starts from.
Thursday, January 04, 2007
What's Been Going On
Well it's been a long time since I've scribbled in my notebook of thought (that's you, Blog), and I bet you want to know what's been taking place with me recently. Well I can't say that life's been a bitch, but it hasn't been the most giving of happy moments. It's been behaving like the distant cousin who is twice your age that comes to visit and momentarily gives you the obligatory "what's up" when passing in the hallway - nothing bad, yet nothing great.
Right now I'm working on this website for the St. Francois Girls' College and I'll tell you that it's no picnic. The color scheme that they gave me to work with is a little bit out of the ordinary which makes it hard for me to find pictures, color complements and other content that matches. I mean, how easy is it to find an illustrated tree with diagonally crossing gold and white gradients that's about 200x300 pixels in size? Not very easy, I'll tell you that. I LOVE the web team I'm working with - very understanding, considerate and generally wonderful people. The patience factor is very high with these people for I have been working on this website for a long time... I better not make it too long.
Aside from that though, everything's just cool, but I happened to stumble upon one of the most impossible of confirmations; one greater than any Catholic may undergo - I confirmed the age old myth... people are idiots. Idiots with an agenda of "Piss Off Kevin". I don't know, am I such a great person to talk to that you must ignore my MSN Messenger status and talk to an empty seat in front of the computer with the hope that the ghost of my presence there will respond? Last time I checked, I was pretty much the average Joe. Here's the problem:
Scenario 1: I usually set my status as "Busy" when I only want to talk to a select crowd of people or when I'm generally entangled in the trappings of my tasks to be completed... yet still my task bar flashes orange with instant messages. Why is this? Because people have no fucking respect for you and what you are doing. I am BUSY, people!!! Why are you bothering me?
Scenario 2: I set my status as "Away" when avoiding people or when I'm genuinely not at my PC... Again the same morons keep sending me instant messages when I'm not there and they have the gall to get pissed when I don't respond. I don't mind if you send me a message that's just for me to take notice of and read at my earliest convenience. There's email for that, but if you think I'll get the message sooner on MSN then OK, fine. Don't start a conversation with "Hi, how u doin?" and there's a big clock saying "Away" winking you in the face. It's just dumb.
The thing that pisses me off most is that some of them are so bold as to tell me where I am. They would say things like "I know you're there, you're just not responding". Well how about this - how about I come to your house when nobody's there, knock on the door and call you out; when nobody comes out I get all angry and piss on your doorstep and take a shit on your porch furniture because I "know" that you're there and not coming out to talk to me. Does that sound like the actions of a sane person to you? I think not.
Scenario 3: I downloaded this Messnger Puls! Thing and it gives you the option of personalizing your online status. I took this opportunity to try extinguish the flames of stupidity that try to consume me when I'm lounging on my internet armchair. I set my status as "Away" with the personal message "No, seriously, I'm not here. I went to the store and I'll be back when I get back" and I put an auto-responder "Bitch! I said I'm not here! Open your fucking eyes and read my status!!!!" in case anybody tried to IM me. I get back from the store 15 mins later and there are 4 conversations opened with people's hurt feelings crawling out of the screen and dragging their slime trail all over my desk. It was then my duty to go to each person and explain to them what had happened (that I wasn't there, etc.) It has to be that these people can't read... but one question though - how can you be illiterate in a chat room?
I don't know what else to say. The next step would be training the MSN logo-dude to jump out of the screen and bitch slap the lot of them for being so stupid. But to answer my earlier question - it's not that they can't read, it's just that they're as stupid as last week Thursday's lunch menu and twice as disgusting. People are idots.
In terms of love life, things can't be better. I ain't getting no "snoo-snoo" but who's complaining? It's the love that's important right?... right?... Your silence says it all :(
This girls got me crazy though. Doing and saying things that I never did/said before and everything I say, I mean. People who knew me from long before would be shocked to hear me say that, seeing that I wasn't much of a "one woman dude", but I'm not lying to say that this girl's got me sprung (yeah, I said it)
So what have we got?
*Current Tasks [x]
*Shit that's bothering me [x]
*Love life info that people won't care about [x]
Yip, sounds like a complete blog entry to me.
Right now I'm working on this website for the St. Francois Girls' College and I'll tell you that it's no picnic. The color scheme that they gave me to work with is a little bit out of the ordinary which makes it hard for me to find pictures, color complements and other content that matches. I mean, how easy is it to find an illustrated tree with diagonally crossing gold and white gradients that's about 200x300 pixels in size? Not very easy, I'll tell you that. I LOVE the web team I'm working with - very understanding, considerate and generally wonderful people. The patience factor is very high with these people for I have been working on this website for a long time... I better not make it too long.
Aside from that though, everything's just cool, but I happened to stumble upon one of the most impossible of confirmations; one greater than any Catholic may undergo - I confirmed the age old myth... people are idiots. Idiots with an agenda of "Piss Off Kevin". I don't know, am I such a great person to talk to that you must ignore my MSN Messenger status and talk to an empty seat in front of the computer with the hope that the ghost of my presence there will respond? Last time I checked, I was pretty much the average Joe. Here's the problem:
Scenario 1: I usually set my status as "Busy" when I only want to talk to a select crowd of people or when I'm generally entangled in the trappings of my tasks to be completed... yet still my task bar flashes orange with instant messages. Why is this? Because people have no fucking respect for you and what you are doing. I am BUSY, people!!! Why are you bothering me?
Scenario 2: I set my status as "Away" when avoiding people or when I'm genuinely not at my PC... Again the same morons keep sending me instant messages when I'm not there and they have the gall to get pissed when I don't respond. I don't mind if you send me a message that's just for me to take notice of and read at my earliest convenience. There's email for that, but if you think I'll get the message sooner on MSN then OK, fine. Don't start a conversation with "Hi, how u doin?" and there's a big clock saying "Away" winking you in the face. It's just dumb.
The thing that pisses me off most is that some of them are so bold as to tell me where I am. They would say things like "I know you're there, you're just not responding". Well how about this - how about I come to your house when nobody's there, knock on the door and call you out; when nobody comes out I get all angry and piss on your doorstep and take a shit on your porch furniture because I "know" that you're there and not coming out to talk to me. Does that sound like the actions of a sane person to you? I think not.
Scenario 3: I downloaded this Messnger Puls! Thing and it gives you the option of personalizing your online status. I took this opportunity to try extinguish the flames of stupidity that try to consume me when I'm lounging on my internet armchair. I set my status as "Away" with the personal message "No, seriously, I'm not here. I went to the store and I'll be back when I get back" and I put an auto-responder "Bitch! I said I'm not here! Open your fucking eyes and read my status!!!!" in case anybody tried to IM me. I get back from the store 15 mins later and there are 4 conversations opened with people's hurt feelings crawling out of the screen and dragging their slime trail all over my desk. It was then my duty to go to each person and explain to them what had happened (that I wasn't there, etc.) It has to be that these people can't read... but one question though - how can you be illiterate in a chat room?
I don't know what else to say. The next step would be training the MSN logo-dude to jump out of the screen and bitch slap the lot of them for being so stupid. But to answer my earlier question - it's not that they can't read, it's just that they're as stupid as last week Thursday's lunch menu and twice as disgusting. People are idots.
In terms of love life, things can't be better. I ain't getting no "snoo-snoo" but who's complaining? It's the love that's important right?... right?... Your silence says it all :(
This girls got me crazy though. Doing and saying things that I never did/said before and everything I say, I mean. People who knew me from long before would be shocked to hear me say that, seeing that I wasn't much of a "one woman dude", but I'm not lying to say that this girl's got me sprung (yeah, I said it)
So what have we got?
*Current Tasks [x]
*Shit that's bothering me [x]
*Love life info that people won't care about [x]
Yip, sounds like a complete blog entry to me.
Friday, December 22, 2006
Season's Greetings!!!
Well it's that time of year again; the holiday hawk is once again ready to swoop down and snatch the limp bodies of the cold, lonely and video game obsessed. He's not getting my ass this year though! HA! You know why? 'Cause I got myself a woman... and a brand new copy of Splinter Cell: Double Agent. If he does come looking for me, his ass ain't finding shit because I learned how to blend seamlessly into the shadows from playing that game... wait, do birds have night vision though? Damn...
ANYway...
As far as my Christmas list goes, its as blank as my Chemistry answer booklet. I don't want anything particularly, though I know people are still going to buy stuff for me. Don't get me wrong though, I'm grateful for all gifts, but because I don't want any gifts, I'm less compelled to buy gifts for other people; but the look they give you after they hand me my present is so damn uncomfortable: They give you the gift and stand there with their mouth slightly open in the shape of the last syllable they uttered, and their eyes are all googley and dinner-plate-ish waiting for you to give them something in return. It makes me feel bad to say: "What?... Or! Shit boy, I en have nothing for you nah, but do worry we go link a scene in a timin' "
Note: Use of my local dialect is a cheap ploy to show that they have my word as a Trinidadian that their gesture of consideration will not go unnoticed.
Yeah, so the fact that I posses nothing tangible to exchange with them is a little bit "weird" for me.
All this talk about me not wanting anything though, I know that when Christmas morning comes I'm gonna want to see something in that couch (poor people don't know nothing about no Christmas tree).
You know what else is gonna be awkward? When my friends call me and ask what did I get for Christmas and I'll say "nothing", then I'm gonna have to state (every single time) that I didn't want anything for Christmas to not make it sound like I'm seeing hard times with money because then they'll all put up and buy something for me and I'll feel like a Charity case.
Not many people know this about me but I'd rather tighten my belt than ask for help, and when people do me favors, it kinda bothers me... though sometimes I do get some kick-ass favors (aside from the sexual ones lol.)
Well... apart from my gift situation and the escape from the holiday hawk, things are pretty much mellow.
The Internet is settling down drastically as the web's most talented technologically savvy authors are curing their carpal tunnel syndrome to get ready for 2007's onslaught of gaming goodness. Next year is going to be like 2004 for games: A lot of big releases and high expectations, innovative game play, graphical beauty contests and a lot of fan boy forum speculation flares are all on the platter for the big '07.
Too bad all that's so far away though, because right now I'm just dying for some speculation juices to start flowing through the veins of Afterdawn, Revision3 and G4's forums.
In an attempt to change my luck with the infrequent updates of gaming news, I sat at my computer tonight, not in the usual tighty whities, but in a full-length track pants... my tactic didn't work that well as my inbox was littered with information only about Microsoft's XNA, Robotics Studio 1.0 and Office 2007 system. I didn't even get anything about Windows Vista for cryin' out loud. it's that bad.
Gamespy, IGN, G4, Gamespot and just about everybody else had their pick for game of the year so in actuality, there is no real game of the year... So I'm just as confused as to what to download as the other guy.
Wait one fuckin minute! How the hell did the entry reach to this topic? Well I know one Kevin Sheppard who's not backspacing all off that text, so read up to this point and relate to my self-inflicted fury and confusion.
Merry Christmas everybody!
ANYway...
As far as my Christmas list goes, its as blank as my Chemistry answer booklet. I don't want anything particularly, though I know people are still going to buy stuff for me. Don't get me wrong though, I'm grateful for all gifts, but because I don't want any gifts, I'm less compelled to buy gifts for other people; but the look they give you after they hand me my present is so damn uncomfortable: They give you the gift and stand there with their mouth slightly open in the shape of the last syllable they uttered, and their eyes are all googley and dinner-plate-ish waiting for you to give them something in return. It makes me feel bad to say: "What?... Or! Shit boy, I en have nothing for you nah, but do worry we go link a scene in a timin' "
Note: Use of my local dialect is a cheap ploy to show that they have my word as a Trinidadian that their gesture of consideration will not go unnoticed.
Yeah, so the fact that I posses nothing tangible to exchange with them is a little bit "weird" for me.
All this talk about me not wanting anything though, I know that when Christmas morning comes I'm gonna want to see something in that couch (poor people don't know nothing about no Christmas tree).
You know what else is gonna be awkward? When my friends call me and ask what did I get for Christmas and I'll say "nothing", then I'm gonna have to state (every single time) that I didn't want anything for Christmas to not make it sound like I'm seeing hard times with money because then they'll all put up and buy something for me and I'll feel like a Charity case.
Not many people know this about me but I'd rather tighten my belt than ask for help, and when people do me favors, it kinda bothers me... though sometimes I do get some kick-ass favors (aside from the sexual ones lol.)
Well... apart from my gift situation and the escape from the holiday hawk, things are pretty much mellow.
The Internet is settling down drastically as the web's most talented technologically savvy authors are curing their carpal tunnel syndrome to get ready for 2007's onslaught of gaming goodness. Next year is going to be like 2004 for games: A lot of big releases and high expectations, innovative game play, graphical beauty contests and a lot of fan boy forum speculation flares are all on the platter for the big '07.
Too bad all that's so far away though, because right now I'm just dying for some speculation juices to start flowing through the veins of Afterdawn, Revision3 and G4's forums.
In an attempt to change my luck with the infrequent updates of gaming news, I sat at my computer tonight, not in the usual tighty whities, but in a full-length track pants... my tactic didn't work that well as my inbox was littered with information only about Microsoft's XNA, Robotics Studio 1.0 and Office 2007 system. I didn't even get anything about Windows Vista for cryin' out loud. it's that bad.
Gamespy, IGN, G4, Gamespot and just about everybody else had their pick for game of the year so in actuality, there is no real game of the year... So I'm just as confused as to what to download as the other guy.
Wait one fuckin minute! How the hell did the entry reach to this topic? Well I know one Kevin Sheppard who's not backspacing all off that text, so read up to this point and relate to my self-inflicted fury and confusion.
Merry Christmas everybody!
Friday, December 15, 2006
Aha!
Coming to think of it, the interjection that is the title of this entry, is a little bit unnecessary for this one since my pleasant experiences only encompass about, say, 2-3 lines of crap... We'll start with the good crap first then dig our way farther down into the shit hole.
The weekend is finally upon me! Today marks the (technical) end of my examination period. Yes, while all you little rats were suckling on the tit of secondary school education and enjoying the benefits of an early vacation, I was losing sleep, slaving over a hot text book. The numbers, facts and formulas singed my face during the wee hours of the morning while you were all snuggled under your covers, the same covers that shielded you from the same devious Christmas breeze that numbed the nerves on my back as I sat half naked by an open window. I hate you all!
Anyway...
What a day to end a week though- 4 hrs and 50 mins. with your girlfriend during an exam is too much to ask for, but I got it anyway :P
Every time I see her, it's like I'm falling in love all over again; But every time I see her again though, I get the rise of that old familiar sinking feeling - that all the past incidental memories trail behind her, like the train of a wedding gown made by the embodiment sadness itself. That's between me and her though...
I spent some time today just chilling out, relaxing, saying dumb crap (as they say) and basically basking in the ambiance of her company. Did I ever tell you that she's a really good listener?
The lime with her today was good, no complaints really.
That's it for the good part of the week.
The rest of days were less than satisfactory and my exam performance followed suit. My Mathematics and Computer exams were done really well, Physics was myeeeaaaaahh (when you say that last word, do the thing with your hand where you put it out flat and tilt it from side to side) and I shat all over Chemistry. Whoever invented the subject would be turning over in their grave if they saw the kind of things I wrote.
The answer sheet was basically returned as markless as it was issued. The multiple choice was a series of random shadings - I think I tried to make a smiley face or something. The structured section was littered with broken explanations and common sense workings, for example C11O3 isn't really a chemical is it? No? Well that was one of my answers. I suppose it could be a new type of drug...
Physics was sort of OK since I had basic understanding of all the principles to be applied, but the questions were a lot harder than I expected. Fuck it yes, a grade B is still good.
So that's how my exams went...
My week, as I said, followed suit: Restless and miserable. Too many situations to deal with, expectations too high to meet, repressed memories surfaced but were repressed once more.
My body is worn, my mind is a clogged exhaust pipe and my emotional processors are overworked.
This next week is where I take a little time, a little time to think things over and get all these feelings out. I'm too young to go through this kind of stress. I need this coming week more than anybody can imagine.
A few days with God and myself should make this week (in particular) a bitter/sweet memory.
Mourn me not, for I shall return... eventually
The weekend is finally upon me! Today marks the (technical) end of my examination period. Yes, while all you little rats were suckling on the tit of secondary school education and enjoying the benefits of an early vacation, I was losing sleep, slaving over a hot text book. The numbers, facts and formulas singed my face during the wee hours of the morning while you were all snuggled under your covers, the same covers that shielded you from the same devious Christmas breeze that numbed the nerves on my back as I sat half naked by an open window. I hate you all!
Anyway...
What a day to end a week though- 4 hrs and 50 mins. with your girlfriend during an exam is too much to ask for, but I got it anyway :P
Every time I see her, it's like I'm falling in love all over again; But every time I see her again though, I get the rise of that old familiar sinking feeling - that all the past incidental memories trail behind her, like the train of a wedding gown made by the embodiment sadness itself. That's between me and her though...
I spent some time today just chilling out, relaxing, saying dumb crap (as they say) and basically basking in the ambiance of her company. Did I ever tell you that she's a really good listener?
The lime with her today was good, no complaints really.
That's it for the good part of the week.
The rest of days were less than satisfactory and my exam performance followed suit. My Mathematics and Computer exams were done really well, Physics was myeeeaaaaahh (when you say that last word, do the thing with your hand where you put it out flat and tilt it from side to side) and I shat all over Chemistry. Whoever invented the subject would be turning over in their grave if they saw the kind of things I wrote.
The answer sheet was basically returned as markless as it was issued. The multiple choice was a series of random shadings - I think I tried to make a smiley face or something. The structured section was littered with broken explanations and common sense workings, for example C11O3 isn't really a chemical is it? No? Well that was one of my answers. I suppose it could be a new type of drug...
Physics was sort of OK since I had basic understanding of all the principles to be applied, but the questions were a lot harder than I expected. Fuck it yes, a grade B is still good.
So that's how my exams went...
My week, as I said, followed suit: Restless and miserable. Too many situations to deal with, expectations too high to meet, repressed memories surfaced but were repressed once more.
My body is worn, my mind is a clogged exhaust pipe and my emotional processors are overworked.
This next week is where I take a little time, a little time to think things over and get all these feelings out. I'm too young to go through this kind of stress. I need this coming week more than anybody can imagine.
A few days with God and myself should make this week (in particular) a bitter/sweet memory.
Mourn me not, for I shall return... eventually
Thursday, December 07, 2006
Unbelievable
Sorry to disappoint, but the title has nothing to do with my performance in the bedroom, and by performance I mean the little demonstration of my hardcore gaming skills that I entertain my guests with when they come to visit ;)
The title more pertains to my wanton disregard and failure to prioritise tasks and objectives. Take today for example - between getting my ass rinsed in a fight and trying to solicit sex from random interned hotties, I find myself making time to listen to Vybz Kartel talk about AK's, subs, rubber gloves, black talons and vaginas.
I don't know about you, but these don't sound like the precautionary measures I should be taking against having to repeat my first semester. Lemme break down that point for you:
In my school, If you fail one out of your seven courses in any semester, you do over the whole year. its that simple. Currently, my Chemistry mark rivals that of yesterday's Lottery draw in a stiff, neck and neck competition to see which one can pull a lower number (place all bets on my Chem mark btw.)
Things don't look too promising, and did I mention that my exams start next week? Yeah, I'm just one of those guys.
Well would you look at that? This is the first substantial entry I made in a long time. Wow! I'm proud of myself.
I know who's to blame though - this girl I'm seeing. You see, after I tell her how sucky my day, week, month or life is going, I feel as though I don't need to tell anybody else because... I've already told everybody I need to tell so I don't come here to write about it.
I guess the reason I started this blog was to relate my crappy situations to somebody who'll always be listening and not complain about how much I talk, or cut me off because they have more urgent matters to attend to. I started it because I thought that the qualities of a blank text entry widget could not be found in any person. I now know that I was wrong. I'm glad I am.
Its unbelievable how she does it. Though her responses to some of my most unfortunate experiences were not what I would call "humane" or "kind", the cruelty hits me hard at first, then fades away; dissipates into a mist that I sail through as it turns into nothing but a dismembered apparition behind me... but wait a minute, who am I trying to bullshit? Quite frankly I think I've developed the Herbivore Syndrome since I started relating her stories i.e. When she laughs at my misfortunes, I grind my teeth so much that, by now, they're probably all the same length and as dull as a Holy Name chick, thus rendering me almost incapable of eating meat. (Herbivore Syndrome)
You know how it feels to have somebody laugh at your near-paralyzed ass after you told them you injured your back at the gym? I tell you, it's no orgasm!
But no matter, this girl's amazing. She has the ear that always listens, the eyes that see through my outer shell of coarse masculinity, the voice that lulls my inner beast of insanity to sleep and the rhythm that the wild beating of my heart was looking for. She kind of makes this blog seem redundant and unnecessary. I'll tell you more about her later though...
Now what was I going to write about now.... shit!!!
The title more pertains to my wanton disregard and failure to prioritise tasks and objectives. Take today for example - between getting my ass rinsed in a fight and trying to solicit sex from random interned hotties, I find myself making time to listen to Vybz Kartel talk about AK's, subs, rubber gloves, black talons and vaginas.
I don't know about you, but these don't sound like the precautionary measures I should be taking against having to repeat my first semester. Lemme break down that point for you:
In my school, If you fail one out of your seven courses in any semester, you do over the whole year. its that simple. Currently, my Chemistry mark rivals that of yesterday's Lottery draw in a stiff, neck and neck competition to see which one can pull a lower number (place all bets on my Chem mark btw.)
Things don't look too promising, and did I mention that my exams start next week? Yeah, I'm just one of those guys.
Well would you look at that? This is the first substantial entry I made in a long time. Wow! I'm proud of myself.
I know who's to blame though - this girl I'm seeing. You see, after I tell her how sucky my day, week, month or life is going, I feel as though I don't need to tell anybody else because... I've already told everybody I need to tell so I don't come here to write about it.
I guess the reason I started this blog was to relate my crappy situations to somebody who'll always be listening and not complain about how much I talk, or cut me off because they have more urgent matters to attend to. I started it because I thought that the qualities of a blank text entry widget could not be found in any person. I now know that I was wrong. I'm glad I am.
Its unbelievable how she does it. Though her responses to some of my most unfortunate experiences were not what I would call "humane" or "kind", the cruelty hits me hard at first, then fades away; dissipates into a mist that I sail through as it turns into nothing but a dismembered apparition behind me... but wait a minute, who am I trying to bullshit? Quite frankly I think I've developed the Herbivore Syndrome since I started relating her stories i.e. When she laughs at my misfortunes, I grind my teeth so much that, by now, they're probably all the same length and as dull as a Holy Name chick, thus rendering me almost incapable of eating meat. (Herbivore Syndrome)
You know how it feels to have somebody laugh at your near-paralyzed ass after you told them you injured your back at the gym? I tell you, it's no orgasm!
But no matter, this girl's amazing. She has the ear that always listens, the eyes that see through my outer shell of coarse masculinity, the voice that lulls my inner beast of insanity to sleep and the rhythm that the wild beating of my heart was looking for. She kind of makes this blog seem redundant and unnecessary. I'll tell you more about her later though...
Now what was I going to write about now.... shit!!!
Sunday, December 03, 2006
Like, What The F***?
Like the saying goes - speak of the devil and he shall manifest himself in all the wrong ways and at all of the wrong times. Not that I ever really mention him...except when I'm cursing and saying things like "bloody hell" and "what the hell?" but that doesn't really count because I'm mentioning the residence of the devil and not him (directly); but that's not the point. Weather or not you mention the rat bastard, he manifests himself, like i said before, in all the wrong ways at all the wrong times. Kind of like a mix between superstition an Murphy's Law. Well I'd have you know that this saying is no superstitious banter and experiencing it first-hand is no basket of roses. I am living proof that the son of a bitch is really out there to mess you up... permanently! Take a look at my weekend:
Thursday
As if feeling like a dog dying of AIDS and mange wasn't bad enough, my Mathematics lecturer had to come in on a double period (2 hours long) and give us an exam.
The good: it was open-book
The bad: the exam was longer than all the Harry Potter books combined with my cousin's criminal record stapled to the end just for good measure.
On each page, numbers, symbols and operands gurned at me. Their grins and taunts strumming on my nerves as I tried my best to navigate my way through the maze of torment and inevitable failure that they have set forth for me to endure.
1 hour and 25 minutes later, my final full-stop lifted my corpse out of the labyrinth and transported me to the end. To the bright light that I have yearned for during the hours passed. I walk down the desert of misery that is the school hall - bruised, battered and waiting for the buzzards to arrive.
I literally collapse on a bench and reach for my lifeline. I used it to call my friend who lives nearby to see if I would be lucky enough to seek refuge and shelter; flee from those cursed halls and avoid the angry sharks that wait at the transportation center. She was home, it was OK for me to stop by. I was in luck.
The journey to her house seemed further than usual but the music in my ear through my iPod shaved a few steps off the journey.
When I had arrived, the house was alive with activity. An old friend came to visit before I reached, so at least I wasn't the disrupting factor of the evening.
I stayed there, rested, recuperated and waited for the angel of life-giving (mom) to arrive and carry me home.
Friday
Not enough sleep in my system, not enough time to relax; either way, I had to get up and prepare for a meeting that was scheduled about the website I'm working on for St. Francois Girls' College.
I donned my robes after doing the whole "prepare to go out ritual".
Upon turning the door knob, the phone rang - mom was calling me to do her a small advertisement for a garage sale that she would be hosting.
Being the person I am, I told mom that I was late for a meeting with the principal of St. Francois Girls' College.
Now in this paragraph, there are some things that I'd like to say about this woman with whom I have to meet, but for the sake of peace and the existence of my blog I will digress.
My mom understood the situation and bribed me with a direct drop to my destination after her little flyer task was done. I couldn't refuse. We all know how I love public transportation in this country.
I sat there, hammering away at the keyboard, longing to insert that final piece of clip art - my invisible finish line.
Finally, mom arrived home and the flyers were reviewed, edited and published faster than a rabbit gets fucked.
Next stop - meeting... but wait, what's this? A phone call?...
Answering that phone was an action, irreversible and as regrettable as not "pulling out" during a sexual encounter. The words that slithered their way through that speaker found their way to the core of my nervous system, merged with the 32 solder point monstrosity that is my brain and delivered more amps of vicious charge than is allowed - the meeting was canceled.
Maybe if I didn't have notes and a small presentation prepared, the meeting's cancellation would have been a gift wrapped blessing, but both my time and adrenaline were wasted - the two things I need more than anyone can imagine (if I am to make it through this weekend).
My body shut down temporarily, but my reservoir of Jesus' grace (my back-up generators) kicked in and I was re-animated, but with that small "eye-twitch" defect.
No matter how angry I got though, I couldn't let it out. I played it cool. A duck on a pond - on the surface things are cool and under control, but beneath is a hidden system of chaotic locomotion.
Friday Afternoon
Despite the cancellation of the meeting, I was still invited to go down to the school to tweak the site's interface and give it that hard to achieve "Francois Feeling". At least the day didn't completely go to waste.
Ah, the power of the vagina - being around all those girls for so long did the impossible; and the strange thing is that they didn't even try! I was defused and possible to be reasoned with... but only for a little while
When the little gathering was over, my girlfriend and I decided to end the day with a little movie viewing.
OK Sorry to disappoint, but I can't quite remember how this day ended. This was a draft that I worked on a while ago and decided to publish today. What I can remember is a chinese man in a brown jersey pissing me off with his bad walking habbits, me getting trouble to get a taxi to go home and back and arriving at my girl's house only to see that she was still in her uniform and chating playfully with her schoolfriend, ignorant to the fact that I was on the virge of breaking out the old chainsaw (vrinnnn vrinn vrinnnnnnn!!!! - wicked sound effects) As fo the movie and whatnot, I can't remember, but i'm sure it ended fairly bitter... as it usually did... back in the old days.
So, hope you had a good read, sorry about the anti-climax :(
Thursday
As if feeling like a dog dying of AIDS and mange wasn't bad enough, my Mathematics lecturer had to come in on a double period (2 hours long) and give us an exam.
The good: it was open-book
The bad: the exam was longer than all the Harry Potter books combined with my cousin's criminal record stapled to the end just for good measure.
On each page, numbers, symbols and operands gurned at me. Their grins and taunts strumming on my nerves as I tried my best to navigate my way through the maze of torment and inevitable failure that they have set forth for me to endure.
1 hour and 25 minutes later, my final full-stop lifted my corpse out of the labyrinth and transported me to the end. To the bright light that I have yearned for during the hours passed. I walk down the desert of misery that is the school hall - bruised, battered and waiting for the buzzards to arrive.
I literally collapse on a bench and reach for my lifeline. I used it to call my friend who lives nearby to see if I would be lucky enough to seek refuge and shelter; flee from those cursed halls and avoid the angry sharks that wait at the transportation center. She was home, it was OK for me to stop by. I was in luck.
The journey to her house seemed further than usual but the music in my ear through my iPod shaved a few steps off the journey.
When I had arrived, the house was alive with activity. An old friend came to visit before I reached, so at least I wasn't the disrupting factor of the evening.
I stayed there, rested, recuperated and waited for the angel of life-giving (mom) to arrive and carry me home.
Friday
Not enough sleep in my system, not enough time to relax; either way, I had to get up and prepare for a meeting that was scheduled about the website I'm working on for St. Francois Girls' College.
I donned my robes after doing the whole "prepare to go out ritual".
Upon turning the door knob, the phone rang - mom was calling me to do her a small advertisement for a garage sale that she would be hosting.
Being the person I am, I told mom that I was late for a meeting with the principal of St. Francois Girls' College.
Now in this paragraph, there are some things that I'd like to say about this woman with whom I have to meet, but for the sake of peace and the existence of my blog I will digress.
My mom understood the situation and bribed me with a direct drop to my destination after her little flyer task was done. I couldn't refuse. We all know how I love public transportation in this country.
I sat there, hammering away at the keyboard, longing to insert that final piece of clip art - my invisible finish line.
Finally, mom arrived home and the flyers were reviewed, edited and published faster than a rabbit gets fucked.
Next stop - meeting... but wait, what's this? A phone call?...
Answering that phone was an action, irreversible and as regrettable as not "pulling out" during a sexual encounter. The words that slithered their way through that speaker found their way to the core of my nervous system, merged with the 32 solder point monstrosity that is my brain and delivered more amps of vicious charge than is allowed - the meeting was canceled.
Maybe if I didn't have notes and a small presentation prepared, the meeting's cancellation would have been a gift wrapped blessing, but both my time and adrenaline were wasted - the two things I need more than anyone can imagine (if I am to make it through this weekend).
My body shut down temporarily, but my reservoir of Jesus' grace (my back-up generators) kicked in and I was re-animated, but with that small "eye-twitch" defect.
No matter how angry I got though, I couldn't let it out. I played it cool. A duck on a pond - on the surface things are cool and under control, but beneath is a hidden system of chaotic locomotion.
Friday Afternoon
Despite the cancellation of the meeting, I was still invited to go down to the school to tweak the site's interface and give it that hard to achieve "Francois Feeling". At least the day didn't completely go to waste.
Ah, the power of the vagina - being around all those girls for so long did the impossible; and the strange thing is that they didn't even try! I was defused and possible to be reasoned with... but only for a little while
When the little gathering was over, my girlfriend and I decided to end the day with a little movie viewing.
OK Sorry to disappoint, but I can't quite remember how this day ended. This was a draft that I worked on a while ago and decided to publish today. What I can remember is a chinese man in a brown jersey pissing me off with his bad walking habbits, me getting trouble to get a taxi to go home and back and arriving at my girl's house only to see that she was still in her uniform and chating playfully with her schoolfriend, ignorant to the fact that I was on the virge of breaking out the old chainsaw (vrinnnn vrinn vrinnnnnnn!!!! - wicked sound effects) As fo the movie and whatnot, I can't remember, but i'm sure it ended fairly bitter... as it usually did... back in the old days.
So, hope you had a good read, sorry about the anti-climax :(
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
Wussup Party Peoples?
Now before you continue, don't get your hopes up expecting another riveting story from the book of jokes that is my life. This is just a post to let all of my fans out there (all three of you) know that I'm still alive, but barely breathing under this avalanche of work, commitments and (seemingly permanent) sexual frustration. Yeah, abstinence isn't as easy as it sounds. You try abstaining for 17 years!
...Anyway!
Nothing really new or interesting happening here for now... Hmmm.... lemme think long and hard........ well.... there is this one girl who seems to have peeked my interest, but that's about all I can say about that....
Well I guess my life is as empty as my fridge and as lonely as my bed at night, which is pretty sad I must admit.
Still no sex, no girlfriend and no cheat codes to Splinter Cell to get me past this stink-ass jungle level.
Oh wait, there is a party on December the ninth that I hope to be going to.... there'll definitely be an update shortly after those festivities... I think...
Boring post isn't it?
Yes?
Didn't I tell you that it would be? People still don't listen do they?!
...Anyway!
Nothing really new or interesting happening here for now... Hmmm.... lemme think long and hard........ well.... there is this one girl who seems to have peeked my interest, but that's about all I can say about that....
Well I guess my life is as empty as my fridge and as lonely as my bed at night, which is pretty sad I must admit.
Still no sex, no girlfriend and no cheat codes to Splinter Cell to get me past this stink-ass jungle level.
Oh wait, there is a party on December the ninth that I hope to be going to.... there'll definitely be an update shortly after those festivities... I think...
Boring post isn't it?
Yes?
Didn't I tell you that it would be? People still don't listen do they?!
Thursday, November 16, 2006
Shook Mail pt. 2
Apparently this internet giant has alot of people running scared, believeing everything it tells them.
While we speak of cyberspace, I shall refer heavily to the Matrix for the next few paragraphs.
I see the source of all the problems with email on the internet as Morpheus, your email account as the randomly ringing phone with no caller-ID and the blissfully ignorant mass of E-succlers (people that read chainletters and relay the scourges of internet bliss) as a sea of potential Neos.
Daily, the phone rings and one of the Neos answers it with that vacant Crash Bandicoot expression on his face. All of a sudden, Morpheus jumps up on his table and starts screaming monkey chant instructions at Neo via the telephone, and the fool in return covers his head and does exactly what Morpheus says.
Neo sends information to all the other gullible masses who also relay the shit fest until it crosses my path. I am an agent. A cleaning agent if you must. I am here to (hopefully) once and for all rid the internet of this garbage that is causing a massive traffic pile up on the information super highway. I am here to force a rebirth of the Matrix in a huge wave of information proliferation, starting with... ah shit, let's get to the point!
1. Paying for MSN hotmail - if Bill Gates ever in his right mind decided that MSN (the free email service for us poor niggers) could only be accessible by giving money (another thing niggas don't like to do) then he would hold a conference with media and press for you to see it on TV and hear it on the radio... and not send a personal email to your buddy in the cubicle next to you informing him of the major multi-billion dollar corporation's decision. Think about it, is the office drone 2 feet away that important?
2. Friendship Networks - if it ain't Hi5 or MySpace don't send it to me. You see, Trinidad s a democracy so popular = best. BoBo.com, Tag and BoseeBackBumbaClaut.org do not ticle my fancy.
3. My name is not Aberheim Zerkhezi- I did not invent the Blowfish Encryption or the encrytion algorithm used by the NSA or CIA. Do not send me a message that looks like it passed through an encrytion blender. Please.
I didn't get any mail like that in a while, but i'll be happy to demonstrate:
------------------------------------------------------
*/84641468748497
uwg8iuw4328347th
iohrt298yt58hyefgt948
hof38yfi28h5y37ft
ruo32t07rsaeur643rtg2-
joif283475p2nvm=506
fnji32fy847yt56hg98573
dih72364y7uty938
hjwye732y5h03ujt9856
iofu423u09jky60947ug5
ruo32t07rsaeur643rtg2-
joif283475p2nvm=506
iohrt298yt58hyefgt948
fnji32fy847yt56hg98573
dih72364y7uty938
l8rs hoss!
------------------------------------------------------
That was an example of a mesage I got from my buddy a while ago. I can't read that! And the worst part about it was that the message was about 4 megs in size - this was back when hotmail gave you a whopping 10 megabytes of email space. You can imagine my disgust.
4. Fuck Luck - You cannot tell me to send something on to a million people in 5 seconds or i'll lose my penis in the next coming moments. Bullshit!! Bad Luck (what I believe) is when your heavenly window of blessings temporarily closes
How about this for a bad luck threat:
Stick 4 razer blades, a pineapple and a porcupine up your ass within the next 5 minutes or your mother will die, a 3 legged donkey will piss on her grave and the swirling sands from the Desert of Lost Souls will find you, engulf you and rip the tender flesh from your brittle bones.
Can you imagine your friends send you these kinds of threats?
5. Finally, Jesus loves you no mater who you are or how many emails you forward. I firmly believe that He is not going to sit all te way up there on His throne, watch your hotmail account and say "You dare defy me!! Forward that message with the earthly representation of Me (that happens to be highly inaccurate) or you will forever burn in the pits of junk email!!!" I think He has better things to do... Unless He's bored... which he isn't. God will love you even if you delete those foolish chainletters. Those letters were started by people who wanted internet recognition among their stupid group of friends, so they compose an email that will make everybody feel guilty to delete and obligated to pass on.
Do like I do when you see them: Check th ebox next to the email> Click "Delete". I do it and I'm still here.
So please, my friends, stop sending me things that waste my time and clog my inbox. Thank you.
While we speak of cyberspace, I shall refer heavily to the Matrix for the next few paragraphs.
I see the source of all the problems with email on the internet as Morpheus, your email account as the randomly ringing phone with no caller-ID and the blissfully ignorant mass of E-succlers (people that read chainletters and relay the scourges of internet bliss) as a sea of potential Neos.
Daily, the phone rings and one of the Neos answers it with that vacant Crash Bandicoot expression on his face. All of a sudden, Morpheus jumps up on his table and starts screaming monkey chant instructions at Neo via the telephone, and the fool in return covers his head and does exactly what Morpheus says.
Neo sends information to all the other gullible masses who also relay the shit fest until it crosses my path. I am an agent. A cleaning agent if you must. I am here to (hopefully) once and for all rid the internet of this garbage that is causing a massive traffic pile up on the information super highway. I am here to force a rebirth of the Matrix in a huge wave of information proliferation, starting with... ah shit, let's get to the point!
1. Paying for MSN hotmail - if Bill Gates ever in his right mind decided that MSN (the free email service for us poor niggers) could only be accessible by giving money (another thing niggas don't like to do) then he would hold a conference with media and press for you to see it on TV and hear it on the radio... and not send a personal email to your buddy in the cubicle next to you informing him of the major multi-billion dollar corporation's decision. Think about it, is the office drone 2 feet away that important?
2. Friendship Networks - if it ain't Hi5 or MySpace don't send it to me. You see, Trinidad s a democracy so popular = best. BoBo.com, Tag and BoseeBackBumbaClaut.org do not ticle my fancy.
3. My name is not Aberheim Zerkhezi- I did not invent the Blowfish Encryption or the encrytion algorithm used by the NSA or CIA. Do not send me a message that looks like it passed through an encrytion blender. Please.
I didn't get any mail like that in a while, but i'll be happy to demonstrate:
------------------------------------------------------
*/84641468748497
uwg8iuw4328347th
iohrt298yt58hyefgt948
hof38yfi28h5y37ft
ruo32t07rsaeur643rtg2-
joif283475p2nvm=506
fnji32fy847yt56hg98573
dih72364y7uty938
hjwye732y5h03ujt9856
iofu423u09jky60947ug5
ruo32t07rsaeur643rtg2-
joif283475p2nvm=506
iohrt298yt58hyefgt948
fnji32fy847yt56hg98573
dih72364y7uty938
l8rs hoss!
------------------------------------------------------
That was an example of a mesage I got from my buddy a while ago. I can't read that! And the worst part about it was that the message was about 4 megs in size - this was back when hotmail gave you a whopping 10 megabytes of email space. You can imagine my disgust.
4. Fuck Luck - You cannot tell me to send something on to a million people in 5 seconds or i'll lose my penis in the next coming moments. Bullshit!! Bad Luck (what I believe) is when your heavenly window of blessings temporarily closes
How about this for a bad luck threat:
Stick 4 razer blades, a pineapple and a porcupine up your ass within the next 5 minutes or your mother will die, a 3 legged donkey will piss on her grave and the swirling sands from the Desert of Lost Souls will find you, engulf you and rip the tender flesh from your brittle bones.
Can you imagine your friends send you these kinds of threats?
5. Finally, Jesus loves you no mater who you are or how many emails you forward. I firmly believe that He is not going to sit all te way up there on His throne, watch your hotmail account and say "You dare defy me!! Forward that message with the earthly representation of Me (that happens to be highly inaccurate) or you will forever burn in the pits of junk email!!!" I think He has better things to do... Unless He's bored... which he isn't. God will love you even if you delete those foolish chainletters. Those letters were started by people who wanted internet recognition among their stupid group of friends, so they compose an email that will make everybody feel guilty to delete and obligated to pass on.
Do like I do when you see them: Check th ebox next to the email> Click "Delete". I do it and I'm still here.
So please, my friends, stop sending me things that waste my time and clog my inbox. Thank you.
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
Broke as a Mother F***
Yeah well I suppose the title of this post says it all. Damn, those bitches on the manufacturing and selling side of the fence just know how to siphon a nigga's money right out of his pocket.
It's like they lure you to the store with the pretty lights, and as you walk through the door your money some how comes alive and prances its way out of your pocket, roams the aisles and grabs stuff, put it in your hand, ushers you to the cashier's desk, jumps in the cash register which triggers the conveyor belt that pulls you (slowly but surely) right out the door and all this happens before you can greet the sales clerks.
Its ridiculous how I have money one moment, and none the next. The above explanation was the only way I could explain how I end up in these financial quandaries (and at the worst times too).
I have a grand total of $20 in my pocket, and this is before the launch of the PS3 and the beginning of the Holiday season when old female friends of mine seem to crawl out from every crab hole in the gutter to ask for a present. A present that if not presented could mean the end of my balls as I know it.
Just last week, I decided to buy an nVidia 7950 graphics card for $2 500, now I hear this week that the 8800 is going to blow that away (no really, it's gonna bend the 7950 over and deliver it!) and it sells for $425 USD. Yeah, it's just that easy to misspend $2500.
Why do they taunt me so?
My friend Willy on the other had (stone cold gangsta/hustler) knows how to make paper. The man sells the shit that'll make you flip! Gummy bears, Chinese mango, Cakes... the man is the king of this shit man!! If only UTT had such a vast buyers market for such things. Nigga, I'd be on the top. Then again, QRC is practically a drag mall; You can go to school and buy shoes if you're lucky. I wish I were still a student there though.
More on that last piece in the next post.
My eyes hurt and my head throbs. Please let me rest oh mighty Internet.
Pathos Verdes III
It's like they lure you to the store with the pretty lights, and as you walk through the door your money some how comes alive and prances its way out of your pocket, roams the aisles and grabs stuff, put it in your hand, ushers you to the cashier's desk, jumps in the cash register which triggers the conveyor belt that pulls you (slowly but surely) right out the door and all this happens before you can greet the sales clerks.
Its ridiculous how I have money one moment, and none the next. The above explanation was the only way I could explain how I end up in these financial quandaries (and at the worst times too).
I have a grand total of $20 in my pocket, and this is before the launch of the PS3 and the beginning of the Holiday season when old female friends of mine seem to crawl out from every crab hole in the gutter to ask for a present. A present that if not presented could mean the end of my balls as I know it.
Just last week, I decided to buy an nVidia 7950 graphics card for $2 500, now I hear this week that the 8800 is going to blow that away (no really, it's gonna bend the 7950 over and deliver it!) and it sells for $425 USD. Yeah, it's just that easy to misspend $2500.
Why do they taunt me so?
My friend Willy on the other had (stone cold gangsta/hustler) knows how to make paper. The man sells the shit that'll make you flip! Gummy bears, Chinese mango, Cakes... the man is the king of this shit man!! If only UTT had such a vast buyers market for such things. Nigga, I'd be on the top. Then again, QRC is practically a drag mall; You can go to school and buy shoes if you're lucky. I wish I were still a student there though.
More on that last piece in the next post.
My eyes hurt and my head throbs. Please let me rest oh mighty Internet.
Pathos Verdes III
Thursday, October 05, 2006
The big Flare! (Not an old person/fat person hater)
First of all, I am not a people-hater, nor a despiser of the elderly; but when you start to make your ass a nuisance, that is where we have a problem.
Take today for example - my day was shitty as is. I expected to have class from 8-11 but instead I had class from 8-4. OK, my fault, who can I blame but myself?
My final two periods were math and as gay as that was, it wasn't all that bad; we got off early.
So if you count it so far, I'm in the hole 2 to 1 with bad luck in the lead.
The journey home on the other hand was where it all fell apart:
I couldn't get a car to drop me to the bus station so I had to walk (I'd say about) 3 frickin' miles in the sizzling sun while dodging traffic and putting up with the mobile scum of the country blasting dub seemingly directly at my tender eardrum. Strike 1.
While walking, I had to put up with fat assed women who apparently have an invisible extra shell that coats them from the sun's stinging rays because they seem pretty comfortable dragging their broad backsides along the sidewalk in the cancer inducing scorge from above all the while carrying on a jolly-light hearted conversation - N.B. I have nothing against fat people - while little me in the back is struggling to plough through your mounds of fat as to be on my way. Now this is not only with fat people though - just basically any old asshole that seems that 4 o' clock in the afternoon or 7 in the morning is a swell time to take a nice, slow stroll through the great ol' P.O.S. is targeted in this little flare piece. Strike 2 by the way.
I got to the bus station and by this point I'm practically ready to pull my hair out; the only thing that stopped me from doing so was the fact that I got a maxi going to my location as soon as I set foot on the platform.
I removed my book-bag and sat quickly as to hide the vertical swimming pool of sweat tattooed on my shirt. As luck would have it, some old woman whom I passed a while back (annoying because she kept saying her thoughts out loud) came and plopped her ass right in the seat in the back of me. Strike 2.33'
Waiting for the shuttle to become filled, another old woman comes trudging to the maxi, one foot in front of the other with each one taking about a year to reach its intended position. I covered my face. She finally reaches the maxi, crocus bags in hand and a look of pure confusion on her face and as that sick, twisted, deserving to be ass-raped by a group of hairy bikers individual named luck would have it, she comes in and sits right next to me. Now usually this wouldn't have been a problem but today was the wrong day for this shit! Visions of prolonged exit procedures, the old woman falling asleep on my shoulder and her asking me ridiculous questions during the journey (like how is your uncle Elroy doing? BTW I don't have an uncle Elroy) on a day like today filled my head to the point of overflowing. The raw zealous hatred for the situation blinded me; but I sat calmly, like a disturbed can of soda ready to fly in the face of anyone who dared to give me the opportunity (by that I mean popping the top :P). Strike 2.66
Alas! My destination - didn't take as long as I expected it to - smooth flowing traffic man, you gotta love it. Now can you remember that part about prolonged exit procedures? Well we're getting to that. After minutes of watching this old lady stroking her bags like a plastic chihuahua It's time for me to come out. I press the bell, pay the driver, the taxi stops. She sits there facing forward. I sit there ready to kick her through the window. I tell her I want to come out (very politely, quote: "Excuse me miss, i'd like to pass please"). She grinds the remaining synovial fluid in her neck to turn her head in my direction. She moves her knees two centimeters to the right and says "pass". STRIKE 3 MOTHER FUCKER!!!!!!!!!11!!
At this point i'm ready to go postal on this country. I just stood up, grinding my teeth and just wanting to kick through this old braud's barriers of obstruction; !but! Thanks to my fine training at home, I gingerly tiptoed out of the maxi like a little fairy bitch and stormed my way home.
What have we learnt about this lesson?
1. Please be considerate when using the country's streets - we all share it! Don't stroll along the busy sidewalk in the morning or I will punch you in the head. I don't mind being arrested for that, seriously.
2. To all the children of the elderly, keep them at home and do their tasks for them you lazy shits! You get people like me very aggravated. I'm on the edge, don't push me or I will bounce their ass down next time I see one...ok may be not but i'll find out where you reside and kick your ass personally.
Thank you.
Take today for example - my day was shitty as is. I expected to have class from 8-11 but instead I had class from 8-4. OK, my fault, who can I blame but myself?
My final two periods were math and as gay as that was, it wasn't all that bad; we got off early.
So if you count it so far, I'm in the hole 2 to 1 with bad luck in the lead.
The journey home on the other hand was where it all fell apart:
I couldn't get a car to drop me to the bus station so I had to walk (I'd say about) 3 frickin' miles in the sizzling sun while dodging traffic and putting up with the mobile scum of the country blasting dub seemingly directly at my tender eardrum. Strike 1.
While walking, I had to put up with fat assed women who apparently have an invisible extra shell that coats them from the sun's stinging rays because they seem pretty comfortable dragging their broad backsides along the sidewalk in the cancer inducing scorge from above all the while carrying on a jolly-light hearted conversation - N.B. I have nothing against fat people - while little me in the back is struggling to plough through your mounds of fat as to be on my way. Now this is not only with fat people though - just basically any old asshole that seems that 4 o' clock in the afternoon or 7 in the morning is a swell time to take a nice, slow stroll through the great ol' P.O.S. is targeted in this little flare piece. Strike 2 by the way.
I got to the bus station and by this point I'm practically ready to pull my hair out; the only thing that stopped me from doing so was the fact that I got a maxi going to my location as soon as I set foot on the platform.
I removed my book-bag and sat quickly as to hide the vertical swimming pool of sweat tattooed on my shirt. As luck would have it, some old woman whom I passed a while back (annoying because she kept saying her thoughts out loud) came and plopped her ass right in the seat in the back of me. Strike 2.33'
Waiting for the shuttle to become filled, another old woman comes trudging to the maxi, one foot in front of the other with each one taking about a year to reach its intended position. I covered my face. She finally reaches the maxi, crocus bags in hand and a look of pure confusion on her face and as that sick, twisted, deserving to be ass-raped by a group of hairy bikers individual named luck would have it, she comes in and sits right next to me. Now usually this wouldn't have been a problem but today was the wrong day for this shit! Visions of prolonged exit procedures, the old woman falling asleep on my shoulder and her asking me ridiculous questions during the journey (like how is your uncle Elroy doing? BTW I don't have an uncle Elroy) on a day like today filled my head to the point of overflowing. The raw zealous hatred for the situation blinded me; but I sat calmly, like a disturbed can of soda ready to fly in the face of anyone who dared to give me the opportunity (by that I mean popping the top :P). Strike 2.66
Alas! My destination - didn't take as long as I expected it to - smooth flowing traffic man, you gotta love it. Now can you remember that part about prolonged exit procedures? Well we're getting to that. After minutes of watching this old lady stroking her bags like a plastic chihuahua It's time for me to come out. I press the bell, pay the driver, the taxi stops. She sits there facing forward. I sit there ready to kick her through the window. I tell her I want to come out (very politely, quote: "Excuse me miss, i'd like to pass please"). She grinds the remaining synovial fluid in her neck to turn her head in my direction. She moves her knees two centimeters to the right and says "pass". STRIKE 3 MOTHER FUCKER!!!!!!!!!11!!
At this point i'm ready to go postal on this country. I just stood up, grinding my teeth and just wanting to kick through this old braud's barriers of obstruction; !but! Thanks to my fine training at home, I gingerly tiptoed out of the maxi like a little fairy bitch and stormed my way home.
What have we learnt about this lesson?
1. Please be considerate when using the country's streets - we all share it! Don't stroll along the busy sidewalk in the morning or I will punch you in the head. I don't mind being arrested for that, seriously.
2. To all the children of the elderly, keep them at home and do their tasks for them you lazy shits! You get people like me very aggravated. I'm on the edge, don't push me or I will bounce their ass down next time I see one...ok may be not but i'll find out where you reside and kick your ass personally.
Thank you.
Monday, September 18, 2006
Back To Prison...
Well if you can't wear a spandex jumpsuit, what can you do? Avoiding going back to the gates of hell is definitely one of those things that you can't do while the spandex jumpsuit ban is in order. The best thing to do at this point is to grab your ankles and take it.
Yes you fine people of the Internet, I am officially off the progress bar monitor duty that was my vacation with lady DSL and once again I'm back in the mean hallways of a fine learning institution (at least so it says on the pamphlet).
As you probably know by now, I've graduated from the cesspool of fond memories, class wars and unconventional learning systems that was my dream school, Q.R.C. I've evolved, gone to a higher level and for my blatant relentless evolution I'm currently staring down the double-barrell of a 12 gauge shotgun that is the tertiary education phase (dun, dun, dun!)
The school I attend now is UTT (University of Trinidad and Tobago) and though they claim not to be a second rate UWI (University of the West Indies), I can't help but get that feeling of "little brother-ness" when traipsing throughout the compound, but what do I know right? I just started there!
The school is good with courses that will eventually lead you to your own personal holy grail of academic qualifications. Though focused more on the technical/engineering/science side, you hardly see short, glass wearing, pale-skinned library inhabitants with inhalers in their front pockets darting through the shaded areas of the courtyard hiding from the sun and trying to get to their classes on-time. Strange enough there are girls, some more attractive than others but i'll get into that later.
My peers this time are different - with only one person from my old school in my programme, picking a fight with the other kids may not be such a good idea especially since the other kids are not really kids but men/women in their twenties. I'm not here to pull rank tough, I'm here to learn and make friends and that's where this school shines.
The balanced mix of races and personalities makes for one hodgepodge of personal interactivity. You can come to school and find a platypus enthusiast if you look hard enough. Everybody is warm, friendly and helpful when direction or assistance is needed. The teachers aren't too bad either. When they teach, they TEACH. Some more than others and these few tend to over do the whole teach by example thing a little too much.
Take my math teacher for example, he apparently doesn't understand that after the 15th factorization question, we'd get the point of the whole topic, but he gives us 15 more "just for kicks". That sir, is sick. He knows what he's doing though....I suppose
All in all, they picked the creme of the crop for teachers and after each class you feel like you're closer to passing that specific subject with flying colors (90-100%).
All in all it doesn't seem that bad so far. Tertiary education is a serious issue and it helps if you have competent teachers, friendly peers and good working conditions; and as I said at the beginning, there's nothing much you can do but grab your ankles and take it, and according to my good friend Olivia, it's a lot less painful if you relax and take a deep breath from time to time. I'll take here advice, I'll take any advice to make my 5 years at this fine institution as quick and painless as possible.
Oh BTW, check out my Hi5 profile, browse the pics, add me as a friend if you want. Here's a preview of my Photoshop idleness, I told you I was a model...I wish. lol
Yes you fine people of the Internet, I am officially off the progress bar monitor duty that was my vacation with lady DSL and once again I'm back in the mean hallways of a fine learning institution (at least so it says on the pamphlet).
As you probably know by now, I've graduated from the cesspool of fond memories, class wars and unconventional learning systems that was my dream school, Q.R.C. I've evolved, gone to a higher level and for my blatant relentless evolution I'm currently staring down the double-barrell of a 12 gauge shotgun that is the tertiary education phase (dun, dun, dun!)
The school I attend now is UTT (University of Trinidad and Tobago) and though they claim not to be a second rate UWI (University of the West Indies), I can't help but get that feeling of "little brother-ness" when traipsing throughout the compound, but what do I know right? I just started there!
The school is good with courses that will eventually lead you to your own personal holy grail of academic qualifications. Though focused more on the technical/engineering/science side, you hardly see short, glass wearing, pale-skinned library inhabitants with inhalers in their front pockets darting through the shaded areas of the courtyard hiding from the sun and trying to get to their classes on-time. Strange enough there are girls, some more attractive than others but i'll get into that later.
My peers this time are different - with only one person from my old school in my programme, picking a fight with the other kids may not be such a good idea especially since the other kids are not really kids but men/women in their twenties. I'm not here to pull rank tough, I'm here to learn and make friends and that's where this school shines.
The balanced mix of races and personalities makes for one hodgepodge of personal interactivity. You can come to school and find a platypus enthusiast if you look hard enough. Everybody is warm, friendly and helpful when direction or assistance is needed. The teachers aren't too bad either. When they teach, they TEACH. Some more than others and these few tend to over do the whole teach by example thing a little too much.
Take my math teacher for example, he apparently doesn't understand that after the 15th factorization question, we'd get the point of the whole topic, but he gives us 15 more "just for kicks". That sir, is sick. He knows what he's doing though....I suppose
All in all, they picked the creme of the crop for teachers and after each class you feel like you're closer to passing that specific subject with flying colors (90-100%).
All in all it doesn't seem that bad so far. Tertiary education is a serious issue and it helps if you have competent teachers, friendly peers and good working conditions; and as I said at the beginning, there's nothing much you can do but grab your ankles and take it, and according to my good friend Olivia, it's a lot less painful if you relax and take a deep breath from time to time. I'll take here advice, I'll take any advice to make my 5 years at this fine institution as quick and painless as possible.
Oh BTW, check out my Hi5 profile, browse the pics, add me as a friend if you want. Here's a preview of my Photoshop idleness, I told you I was a model...I wish. lol
Friday, September 08, 2006
Goin Postal on Yo' Narrow Ass!
*** WARNING ***
The following post contains images of a graphic and vile nature. please do not proceed unless you have a strong stomach. Needless to say, the following images are NOT SUITABLE FOR CHILDREN (individuals under the age of 17).
As proof that violent video games do in fact numb your mind, I have assembled the "sweet spot" images of the video game which I am currently playing. These pictures were taken using FRAPS.
Hung this lady upside down then took her head off with a shovel. She tried to kill me.
Diseased cow head. Throw it and let the disease spread throughout a crowd of enemies (or pedestrians)
How you get beef. There's a cow among all this blood...
Where they slaughter people to make "beef"
How you look when you die by burning to death.
Killed this OFFICER by blowing his head off with the SPAS 12 shotgun.
Another shovel death
Cat Silencer. Stick the muzzle of your gun up a cat's ass so that the cat's furry body may muffle the sound.
The first time I played this game, I nearly cried. Just to think that us humans can think of such devious ways to dispose of one another. The people that created this game (those who modeled the headless corpses, programmed the blood dynamics and enabled you to kick a decapitated head) are not people in an insane asylum. These are people just like you and me. Walking around and going to a regular office job. Just a lesson - the human mind is a disgusting place.
It does, however, make a good game though. After the shock value wears off, you'll be hosing ppl down with napalm in no time! At least it works for me...
Have a good night everyone, drive safely!
Saturday, September 02, 2006
Behold The Drunken Sheep! (Party Pictures)
** Update - due to the explicit nature of some of the pictures, the individuals in the said pictures have ordered a permenant removal from this website. Sorry guys, maybe next time :( **
They laughed when I asked for orange juice at the bar, but now they see my drunken fury!
The following pictures are a reminder of the Hardcore Limers party on Independence Night. The pictures are also a reminder that you don't need alcohol to behave like a drunken hooligan...
They laughed when I asked for orange juice at the bar, but now they see my drunken fury!
The following pictures are a reminder of the Hardcore Limers party on Independence Night. The pictures are also a reminder that you don't need alcohol to behave like a drunken hooligan...
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