It's a little hard to believe that the Gameboy Advance, sans screen size, represents a superset of Super Nintendo functions. Ports rule. How many great RPGs were on the Super Nintendo... How many great RPGs could be on the Gameboy Advance... It's mind boggling. Go portage.
This sucks. I'm blasting my time getting lost on Everything2 instead of burning money on Black Friday. It's already past noon and Bergen County is over an hour away. Fucker.
Randomly Cool People: Johnny Quest and Paul Simon.
I wish life was more like Volcano High. That or Rival Schools. Either one. Both good. Both favorites.
I just realized there's not much in life that's... Super different. It's all about changing your paradigm, or something. Like, I want something that makes playlists for me in Winamp... What really matters is the dates, times, and durations of when I played MP3s. The rest, like many things, is just how to interpret the data. Chronologically, visually, statistically, I dunno, something. It's all good. Very simple/complex actually.
There's my side, your side, the truth, and then what really happened.
Volcano High School is the hottest movie I've ever seen. I'm gonna make it a favorite.
In Winamp, the title of the window shouldn't be "shade", it should be the title of the song currently playing... Maybe it's the skin's problem? Something?
Bemani music is just good music in general.
Mark's jokes in standard formation: For instance, we might be in Calculus class... Damn, this Indefinate Integral is a bitch. // Your face is an indefinate integral. // Your mom is an indefinate integral!
And that's it..
Gobble gobble day (thanks, Joy) could be called Tryptophan Intake Day. Goodnight, guys...
I think I'm just rechanneling my otherwise idle complimenting energy to the likes of Mariah and Tara Reid... The Old Mariah, not the New One. There was a fond day and age in my family where we all dug the Knicks and the Old Mariah Carey.
I'm so going to hell. Not once did I say Thank You at all yesterday. Funny how that rolls off easier to "strangers" than it does blood-based family.
Maybe it's just me but does Kappa Kappa Kappa sound too much like Klu Klux Klan? Anyway, most of the brothers sound/look Asian, which is cool.
Fine, maybe not on behalf... I'm not representing or supporting ignorance... I speak... from ignorance.
I speak on behalf of ignorance.
life should be brainless at the preempted autoclick of a button
Must. See. Distributed language translation service. With ching points. And rank by reputations. Arg...
Nifty word of the week: aversion.
Recurring ideas of late: the Greener Side Syndrome and It's All About Relativity.
Other people's stuff always looks more diesel than your own. You want what you can't have. You truly appreciate the value of things in their absence. All stuff like that. It's all like Yin and Yang. Because you can't have something without having nothing in place.
And on relativity... Things are different. People are different. People's reactions are different. Don't like something? Try thinking about it in some other way. Negativity? Boom, deflection, bonus. Like changing your paradigum. When someone is completely stressed out, someone else isn't. What is that person thing? Get a clue maybe?
That and loss of innocence.
Look at me be dense: what is a hot second/minute?
Randomly cool people: Larry Wall and Will Wright.
I go to my brother's site and what do I see? NOTHING! Absolutely nothing. Just a link... A freakin' link to what? To Xanga! Look what you guys did to him. You all suck. I can't believe you actually caved in to all that peer pressure... We were supposed to be different. And do things our way and be hard core. But I guess you just wanna follow the crowd. Fine! Be a sheep. BAAAAAA... You can't handle the truth!
Dreamcatcher: Something about bitchy succubus powers, a campus turned upside down, and Mr. P saving the world. Or at least me complaining to him about super bitchy succubus powers.
I'm sleeping and hallucinating about people I don't even know (Jefe) and purchasing food items that will never be bought. Someone... Stop me...
What if every question I asked was countered with, "Well, first, what do you think?" How constructive would that be? Is that like the Socratic method?
You know what I'd really hate (sucks that I realize this now...), someone correcting me or even trying to correct me on something about web design...
Educational gaming (sorta kinda): Pilotwings for RWB G and T.
Most diesel puzzle game: Tetris Attack, followed by Kirby's Avalanche and any derivatives thereof...
Random games to love: Yoshi's Island and Snake Rattle and Roll.
It's still annoying to look down at my shirt... My collection of shirts... And realize that there's no longer anything to adjust. I guess I have to adjust now.
What's a Seamonkey anyway?
I'm the only person on Earth who digs premixed peanut butter and jelly.
Now I remember why I liked Animaniacs so much... A little bit of adult humor, a lot of kid humor, great animation, and great music too. Like the nations song... Any song for that matter. All good. Both good. Both favorites.
Nothing means more in friendship than garnet over gold, especially when it's gone.
Places I really wouldn't mind dying at or being locked in rather: Barnes and Noble, Pearl, or the Virgin Megastore.
I know what this is like, and I think it'll help. It's like failing (not making) a Bergen County Chorus audition... I've been through a bunch of those, and I know there's nothing to fear.
One of the hardest things to do yesterday was internalize a self-proclaimed catatastrophe with the quickness and confront 30 other guys who were laughing and having a good time... Basically maintaining the attitude of ain't no thang... And maybe as it should be. Because there's nothing to stress out or worry about...
More goodness. Tops is not Tee Oh Pee Es Ee, I don't know how I did that. And I am both with and without, so now I can make a better, more-informed decision, as all things should be. Thanks again.
There's either very much or very little to say of what happened yesterday... One way to go about it is think for a little bit (just a little) and compose a well formed response.
I was dropped. I was going to tack on something nasty like dropped like a sack of something but that's completely untrue. Being the one to wish for open criticism, I should just take it as such. I finally have a circle of friends willing to tell me I'm good when I'm good and I'm bad when I'm bad... Which is what I've wanted for a long, long time.
Nobody ever said I had to stop learning. I've been repeatedly given an open, physical invitation. That's an opportunity, another vehicle to learn more. If I couldn't use what I've learned to trust in that decision and understand why this was the best course of action, then I've truly learned nothing. That's all it is, another lesson. Not many things in life are binary... They couldn't be. It's all about many little gradual changes. This was just a small change, and I'm still Mark Canlas.
I wanted to cry, and I still do. I don't know why, but who wouldn't? But I knew that. I knew I wasn't ready. I knew it wasn't right. Not completely un-right, just in that it could have been better... There's always room for improvement. Then... I know everything, so it shouldn't have been so unexpected... That was the startling part. Having a startling discovery like that was definitely a shortcoming of something, someone... But I have to take the time out to understand why, if at all, that is. (Heh maybe that's still a little more of the wrong attitude... I don't know everything. Because if I did, I would know of all of my shortcomings and my getting dropped... I have a profound sense of self-awareness, how's that...)
My backpack is a little lighter... My chest is a little bare... But now I have me to show off to the world, because nobody needs funny symbols to be a better man. That's just frosting. As I cry, I can feel the hurt and pain when I put my hand over my heart... There's nothing there. And I took for granted every day that there was something there to hold, cherish, and wear with an undying pride. Hah I'm such a dork... It's like a linked library with a missing function. But there's no room to crash dive but fail gracefully. And failure isn't even like that. Failure is just a different result.
You definitely don't know how shiny something is until it's taken away... I couldn't recall ever slowly relinquishing three items that mean just a little more to me on their way out of my grasp. Ha... There goes that BT saying... You can take the Pete out of Bergen Tech, but you can't take the Bergen Tech out of Pete... You can take away all of the official designations from me, but you can't take away what they mean to me.
I don't know what I'm saying anymore... This isn't well formulated, is it... At least it's something. Not something to dwell on, but something to learn from. And for no moment did I hold this decision against anyone. Why bother, it's not worth it, and it's not right. Because I trust you.
I hope this is all coming across in the best way possible... Now I know I really have to earn something that I truly want. As it should be.
I was going to end with something diesel like Garnet over Gold but even I don't know what that means right now... Maybe it doesn't have to mean something. It shouldn't be forced... It should be a natural process. Because now, with the guidance of thirty+ other guys, I know where I stand and where they stand.
Bullhorns...? Shocker? Shotgun next semester? Thank you? It sure is! I'm jus sayin...
Who says there needs to be an end... If I need help finding an answer, at least I know where to turn... Because as nasty as it is, and regardless of how many coats of hot pink it needs (I'm just kidding, guys...), the door is (supposedly) open... I just don't want to over-extend my stay... But if you want me there, I'm there.
So, how about that discrete quiz, guys...
It's hard to listen to someone explain anal beads with a visual aid... "I don't understand how this feels so good," while he pokes the beads into his fist. And then rips them out.
New word: unfuck. Example: Be sure to unfuck the [tangled] Marine flag.
Talking to myself (uh oh, one of em's gone kerazy!) is so much more comforting and easy than arguing and rationalizing and second-guessing other people...
By the no way... (i.e. there's absolutely no correlation other than the occurrence of thought and laziness for a new post) NYC's rainy day was a bitch yesterday. I actually slipped and fell down a handful of steps on an immobile escalator in the Virgin Megastore. Great store. Lots of people. Sucky undried esukarata desu ka. I'm pretty sure that's where my back-of-shin injury comes from. It still hurts a little. But the thing is... Instead of scrape marks from the escalator teeth, it looks more like two holes. It's like I was biten by a Chupacabra! How phat is that? I got attizzacked.
Wait this is so fucked up. I keep telling people I'm aware of everything and I know all the answers. And I do. =) But why do I propose that I have a problem? People who know everything generally don't have a problem, because knowing everything would include knowing the answer to said problem. So... It's all about redirecting all that unfocused stress and asking myself a couple questions. There, that as easy... Well, for now it's easy. Fuck... All that effort.
All that paperwork...
So I think one thing. And someone says another thing. I could follow completely, and that'd be obedience and loyalty. Go me. I could follow completely, and that would be sheepism and mindlessness. I could not follow at all, that'd be disobedience and being an ass. I could not follow at all, and that'd be independence and the reaffirmation of free will. Go me. So the answer to this question is balance.
Is it valid to say Performance Time is just One More Practice?
Hahaha... Go to Muscle Heat and watch the trailer. The announcer is like Masur Hito. Ha, I love Japanese. Anyway, only Japanese people are enlightened enough to think of phrases that end with Heat. Burning Heat. Muscle Heat. Yeah...
What do I say? I say thing's like I'm just saying... Or, ain't no thang. That used to be ain't no thang but a chicken wang but that's because I was hungry at the time. Don't worry. Ain't no thang.
People say you're in control of your Fate. Some people say Fate already decided everything for you. But what about all those moments where you're aware of the idea of Fate? Are you in control? Did you think of that? Or did Fate tell you to think about Fate? I think everything's predecided. Even that notion that life isn't predecided. It is. You just don't know that. Even this supreme self awareness... It's all been done. Nam sayin'?
One high schoolism that I learned and retained that people don't follow here is mixing ketchup and mayonaise to make a pseudo-thousand island dressing for chicken/fries. Dammit. Do it.
If one could really take care of it... Would you? Always?
From Token we get Coinslot, and from Mango we get Chilly Willy.
Where take care and good luck become take luck, honduras gofers is becareful of honduras and befriend gofers. Obviously.
The Japanese are great. They make everything work. Anyway, this week is all about changing my paradigm (paradigum) and the Japanese Silence. But more on the Japanese Silence part. Just like a musician said, it's all about the space between the notes. Or the space between pixels. Black pixels are garbage. There are tons of them! But the space in between makes the letters, nam saying? Exactly. It's all about the space between us (cue Dave song?). The Japanese Silence. Words without words. Hot ish. Hat tip goes to The Andrew for setting me straight... Thanks, MAN.
It's not so much the Japanese Silence we were trying to focus on, which was a misunderstand on both our parts, I think... It's more of an exercise in listening, where listening requires (well yes and no, but the short answer is yes) silence.
There should be a program or a philosophy, something, that eliminates rot... Like OS rot. Or just the general rot of ideas in my head. Something about a stack and the way things have to be fresh. I guess I'm what I'm trying to reinvent is FIFO, first in, first out. But it'd be nice if there was an agent on my computer saying, "Hey, this shit is like a thousand years old, how about you delete some of it?"
There are only so many particles in the world... Life just is. The way the particles dance makes all the difference. Thanks, Mike, Rei, Noah, Andrew.
I'm way overdue for an obligatory entry on why Canadian skaters are cool... By the way, how does one spell Canada? See, aye. En, aye. Dee, aye. Aye?
Mom-mom's the best... Kept a photocopy of my health records because Health Services was being a bunch of punk bitches! You lost our shit and now we're screwed for registration... What the hell...
Golly gee willaker. College made me all foul... I shouldn't curse anymore, really. Hmm... Aww fuck that. Haha!
A great man (there ya go, slave driver, wonk wonk) once told me... There's a difference between being helped and being babied. Everything is basically out there for you to take and consume. If you don't take it, that's your fault. Asking for help is when you've taken all you can and exhausted all of your resources. You're done. You're spent. You can't continue. Then that's help. But trying at the last minute while not trying any time before that is crap. And asking for help then is being babied. And no one likes punk bitches like that.
Alsexy: What? You don't know what the fuck an algorithm is? Algorithm is when I'm having sex. Al go rhythm. // Har har brotha man...
I'm beginning to talk and make mouth motions just like other people... I hope I'll still remember who I'm talking about when I reread this... This is exactly like sophomore year when I tried so hard to be Korean. It started somewhere at Frost Valley, me with my ghetto punk ass Korean mix tape... I have no problem admitting this... I might as well graduate from the feeling. And I'm not racist. I hate all people equally. I'm just aware.
Koreans make good barbeque (supposedly, according to Kuya). They also have phat hair. And the girls are mad cute. And the guys are smart and can dance and break. I just wished, in the most Academy way, by statistic, to be all HardKoreAn. Yup... Saying "osh" all the time something happened... Affirming the fact that I knew how to write the name Sung... And how I listened to Sechs Kies (sp)'s Road Fighter and Yoo Seung Jun.
Well, the good news is that I'm not longer trying to be Korean. That stopped a long time ago... But the bad part, indicated mostly by my shopping bonanza today, is that I'm trying to be like someone else... I swear it's self-improvement via emulation. I've yet encounter a person that's like, Mark, you're such a biter. Just be yourself. Well, not that that would come across in a bad way, but I'd be all like, Fuck you, this is the way I am. What if I like copying people. What if I like stressing out. What if I like remakes of songs instead of the originals. Did anyone ever stop and think that being a biter is a lifestyle? Hell yeah! Stop and think... Stop. And think. (That one came from the one/two times I actually went to church.)
Hmm there's a lot of haters online so I'm gonna chalk one up for the un-hate... Upside down and backwards visors are hella cool. Quit yer bitchin'...
On Spotaneity and Living Life. Does living life to its fullest directly imply living spontaneously? All other things that you don't do immediately are holds, aren't they?
As Jen so kindly pointed out, it's to bawl, not ball. That's like me writing for all intensive purposes. It just really goes to show how little substance I read.
My dad says salut all the time. What does that mean?
Not even in Merriam Webster does ball mean to cry. So what the fuck? People ball all the time. To ball like crazy to the point of tears. Yup yup.
Mmm,. tasty 101.1 Oldies...
And yes, we all know who invented light.
Fuck I scratched my book. It'd be so much more useful and I woke up and was like, shite, I can scratch like turntables. No such luck. Oh well, I at least know which book is mine beacuse it looks all busted. But maybe that'll be interpreted as a symbol of being irresponsible... Shite.
Holy cripes. I'd be a little punk bitch if I didn't get my way. All whiny and shzt... Thank God stuff just worked out, ya know?
I always look twice. I always double back. Why doesn't anyone else?
There was a time in my life where Kidsongs were the shit and I watched them every minute of my life. No lie. I love music.
Each member of a class instantly inherits methods and members of that class. Like some people having psikick powers. I learned that, and only your friends can touch your private members. It's true, though.
I didn't mean to laugh. That was just my Don't Stress Out mechanism. And yes, I'll be weary of chairs being thrown at me next time. Or standing on them. Err, it's fun. I want to. Bring it.
I hate to reduce people, but that's just what happens. And I'd like to think that I'm from a fairly intelligent group of high school graduates (har har, we r0x0r your face)... But now that I'm in college, chilling with people of every kind, I kinda want to know what they got on their SATs. Not that it says everything or is absolution in how I view someone, but it does say something at the very least. So what if they get a low SAT score (or even a high one), I just want to freakin' know. Assuage my fears, tell me you're smart anyway. I still like ya. Well, there's the Honors College, which is full of a great breed of people. Too bad I'm failing. Or rather, having my academics result in something alternative. Meh. Better get my ass in gear...
McGuyver is hot ish. I remember watching that show. Okay, no, I don't, but I know someone who totally digs McGuyver. I bet he geeks out about it too. It's nice knowing what makes people geek out. It's like their thing, it's who they are.
San Gennaro was hot ish. I wanna listen to more native Italian dance/techno music. Mmm, zepoles...
It only takes two, but someone can be real funny and just raise both hands...
Well, onto something I learned in literature class and hope I didn't blog about already... One time, one piece of evidence, one of anything is nothing. It's a freak. Two is a coincidence, now you're gettin' scary. Three is like freakin' proof. Three atoms smashing together doesn't happen. But three citations of something makes it all come together. Alright I'm totally ruining the philosophy here, but as long as I know what I'm talking about, all is good.
Where is the phrase don't be scurred from?
Rocko's Modern Life was the shit. I love that show. And I'm blogging multiple entries again and being trigger happy with the Publish button...
So... Let's say there was a pool of nodes... And each node had a class, but also possessed a parent. Each parent could own multiple children nodes. Hmm, sounds like a Document Object Model. Sounds like something else... Anyway, it'd be diesel to see which set of nodes, by class or hierarchy, are going strong and popular. Cool shits.
There was a sign in the Hazell certain that was like Exit for Extreme Emergencies Only. But it was more like Extreme Exit Only. I was like (was like was like) wow, Extreme. Extreme like the X-Games and snowboarding? So I walk out with my buddy and right before we reach the door, I try to slide how dramatically and yell out Extreme Exit Only! It's a physical joke. You had to be there. Laugh, it's funny.
Sometime, somewhere, there was an article on how Grand Theft Auto had no redeeming qualities. Like, it's all violence and not much of a justice system. I was gonna say use the Vigilante system but that's requires a secret code and blowing shit up. Anyway, I think GTA is all about channeling ones anger. We all have dark sides, that's okay. But those ideas and energies have to be exhausted some how. So why not blow shit up in a fictional environment. Although the disturbing thing is that my friends are more like... As they walk near cars, they're like, dude, I so feel like jacking this and ramming it into something, GTA-style. But you didn't hear that. GTA is fun shit. Supposedly. Alright, whatever, I'm one of the only people who doesn't like GTA. And I don't play Warcraft. Or Madden. Or Halo. Fawk j00!
Straight from GTA-VC: You're so ugly you make blind kids cry! Holy shite that's freakin' busted.
Where would I be without my big brother? Nowhere, and nowhere.
I remember something from fourth grade. Might as well blog it.
We were probably writing letters to the president. And when you're in fourth grade, you're just about nine years old (grade plus four, guys). For the high school class of 2002, the year is the same as the grade you're in... Ooo... Moving on, in learning the quirks of writing, we discussed writing numbers. Like writing out numbers. Four. One. Not 2. 5. The rule goes, for any single digit number, you have to spell it out. If you're a double digit, go for it, that's effort. I remember talking with someone about our age, our numbers (I'll take a guess, Nick Santana, hey man, what's up) and what to do. He was ten. I was nine. He was 10. See that? I got all jealous n stuff, that I didn't get to write out my name with numbers n stuff. Fudge.
Wow, I also remember the last party day for sixth grade... Hmmf, I remember a lot of random things... Anyway, I didn't know what Ecto Cooler tasted like, so I stuck my finger in my friend's cup.. Totally uncool, although I didn't think much of it at the time. Sorry to say there were no seconds served that day. I promised myself back in the day that I'd get him a jug of Ecto Cooler. I'll probably forget. Or worse, never see him again. But should I ever A && B, see and remember him, I'll treat him to that jug of Ecto Cooler, provided it'still around. Silly Ghostbusters...
There I am, ready to work, and I see myself in the mirror. Of all the places to put the mirror, there it is, left from when my roommate used it. Looking at myself reminded me of that idea I heard, something about practicing public speaking to yourself in the mirror. It'd be weird to see how weird I am. I mean people tell me how badly I come across sometimes, so maybe talking to myself in the mirror will help fix that. Fix that and make something else worse... Like my sanity. But at least people will definitely know I'm crazy! That boy ain't right. He karayzay.
My random class notes so far: I keep thinking that Alice in Wonderland and the Wizard of Oz are similar or the same thing. Catch me at the wrong moment and I'll tell you that Alice had to follow the Yellow Brick Road. From there, we graduate to my wanting another fuzzy gray sweater... I long the stuff that other people rock. Clothing and stuff in general always looks good on other people. Like Jian's Timbs. But Ed (or someone) said it's just the Greener Side (greener grass on the other side of the fence) Syndrome. Trueness... And then I slept a little in class... The material was interesting (it was about God and sex, how cool is that), but sometimes people are just so boring... So we have cars in the 30s. Something about modernism and function over form... Which reminded me to check out that typical family of the 50s idea. I love old school advertisements and memorabelia of that time.
Then we talked about religion as a secondary layer that people apply to their lives. Society as a whole deems religion as something extra that you do, not the way you live your life wholly. Meh. That and the real money in the world comes from those who innovate. Why those two ideas are in the same paragraph, I don't know... Some people in class have really nice smiles. I dig my class people. I hope they dig me.
Oh and whatever happened last night... Bite me. Seriously. It put me back into place. So thanks until next time, biatch.
Yesterday, I learned BBC. Bitch, be cool. That's when the boys wanna hang out, cuz ya gotta leave the bitches at home. So when she gives guff, you say, bitch, be cool. So I've heard.
I mean, you're never supposed to call your girlfriend a bitch. "Never call me a bitch, ever." // "Okay... bitch." Blam, right in the nutsack.
Hey Ray, thanks for reminding of that phrase constructor... Something like woah. Like busy like woah. Or as Greg's friends would say, Like Love... I dunno where that one is from. A DDRFreakism is definately like wut or $1 > $2. Like I think 7th Mix > j00, obviously.
I'm really shocked that the phrase "Garnet over gold," isn't anywhere on the Internet. Well guys, now it is. And how do I know that something doesn't exist on the entire Internet? Simple. Google.
By the way, that guy in the back of our Discrete class is freakin' annoying. At the loudest voice, he always suggests an answer like, "Can't two go on the top as well?" Sure, he's trying to be helpful. But he's a FOB. And he's loud. He's a loud FOB. There's nothing like being flagrantly fobulous.
Ya joik. Ya sucha joik.
Toin da page. Wash ya hands.
I can't believe I haven't blogged about my ability to make new words by suffixing -ness and -osity. Oh wait, I just did. Like... This game doesn't feel right. There's not enough Camcom-ness-osity going on...
Dreamt of Ray visiting me. Where, though? Atlantic City. Yellow trunks. With Ray Laroza in the room no less. Pretty freaky. It's like the awesome dream I had before. About Adam. And that thing I do. And the unity of my worlds. Where is everyone, anyway? I want to run home and be a good alumni.
Failure is a different result.
Now ain't that a bitch... Mark Canlas from www.markcanlas.com e-mailed me! How freaky is that? I feel robbed. Like my identity has been stolen. I still retain the number one and three spots on Google for Mark Canlas but I gather that won't be staying around for long... I guess I should work on bolstering my webcelebness... Oh well. No stress. It's all good. I'm actually interested in seeing what my webcam looks like... Haha. His webcam. My webcam. Someone's webcam... Doesn't matter. Thank God he's a Mark with a K. Cuz we all know how ghetto Marc's with C's can be... All us and the panty-jams...
A quick lesson in Gibberish: ittaga quittagick littages sittagon ittagin gittagib bittager rittagish. That's from Sabrina. I loved her so. Her and her cafeteria boxers. The plaid ones. The ones with the band.
Last night was awesome... Got a Filipino. American shirt. Maraming salamat, Kuya. That was after we saw the Ring. Seven days, biatch! Then we tried hitting up the Hop Lee, but obviously, we just went to Hop Kee, which was the shiznat. It's all about sharing, guys. Sharing and the salted pork chops. After that, I went Oaking and sleeping for eight hours... All up until T-minus 30 minutes for departure time. You know, the exact same time the campus is going ballistic to cater to good ol' President Clinton. Yep, he's coming to campus. Why? I dunno. But uh... Last night I was dreaming. It's like we were talking smack about my big bro and he was sleeping and laughing it off. Something about actually leaving at 8:00 in the morning... Whatever. I'm tired I gotta pack. By the way, the weather is talagang crazy! It's like a blizzard spell. It looks so unnatural. The weather it all fine and sunny, but it's on the verge of a biting cold, and there is snow. It's more of pact rain then snow, though.