oh holy fuck why do I still have this thing around
In honor of my rediscovery of this blog, here's an appropriate quote from some guy on the internet.
"I would goddamn kill myself if I thought the same way about the world at age 21 as I did at age 18."
(future self? past self? discuss)
Monday, August 22, 2011
Friday, July 25, 2008
Comic-Con 2008
Auuuuugh I is back @__@
Crowds really aren't my thing, though I guess it wasn't that bad most of the time. This is my first time ever going to such a huge convention intentionally, not counting the occasions on which I was dragged around by parents, and I was quite surprised by how many graphic artists, design companies, etc. I'd never heard of in my life. I wasn't able to take too close a look at their art, though, because I had other motivations; namely, obtaining as much Bleach paraphenalia as was physically and mentally possible for a penny-pinching Asian with a guilt complex about spending.
Fortunately, Friday held very few extremely interesting programs and panels, so I was able to wander about the back alleys of the Con wondering just how many goddamn age-yellowed Marvel comics in little plastic bags one could buy. Everything was, of course, overpriced - I obtained a tiny Maya (Phoenix Wright) plastic figurine for $9. Was hoping for Edgeworth, but at least the toy had excellent details - unlike the toys many Western companies make, which at small scales start dripping or blurring paint. Also purchased a Kuchiki Byakuya toy and a nifty Bleach wristband, which at least helped keep one wrist warm in the frigidly air-conditioned convention center. I was also tempted by some 13 Court Guard armbands , but on second thought decided I would rather not be relegated to the rank of vice-captain by wearing one. Egotism for the win.
Later, I would be incensed that I did not go on Saturday instead, the first time evar Tite Kubo would be in the US for convention events and autograph signings. Tite Kubo! I swear to god my timing sucks. Next year I'm getting a four-day pass.
I can't objectively judge how well this Con went, but I can say that it was a rather enlightening experience to see just how many other insane human beings would want to dress up a.) as Shinigami and other fictional characters or b.) in a speedo as I-don't-even-want-to-know-what. The guy must have been damn cold. o_O; Regarding programming - the bigger the company, the better free stuff they gave out. That was about all I learned of the entertainment industry and pop culture in a day of being immersed in the biggest nerdfest evar. Besides that it's terribly bad manners for interns to be fanboys of their co-workers in the animation industry. Damn. :|
Crowds really aren't my thing, though I guess it wasn't that bad most of the time. This is my first time ever going to such a huge convention intentionally, not counting the occasions on which I was dragged around by parents, and I was quite surprised by how many graphic artists, design companies, etc. I'd never heard of in my life. I wasn't able to take too close a look at their art, though, because I had other motivations; namely, obtaining as much Bleach paraphenalia as was physically and mentally possible for a penny-pinching Asian with a guilt complex about spending.
Fortunately, Friday held very few extremely interesting programs and panels, so I was able to wander about the back alleys of the Con wondering just how many goddamn age-yellowed Marvel comics in little plastic bags one could buy. Everything was, of course, overpriced - I obtained a tiny Maya (Phoenix Wright) plastic figurine for $9. Was hoping for Edgeworth, but at least the toy had excellent details - unlike the toys many Western companies make, which at small scales start dripping or blurring paint. Also purchased a Kuchiki Byakuya toy and a nifty Bleach wristband, which at least helped keep one wrist warm in the frigidly air-conditioned convention center. I was also tempted by some 13 Court Guard armbands , but on second thought decided I would rather not be relegated to the rank of vice-captain by wearing one. Egotism for the win.
Later, I would be incensed that I did not go on Saturday instead, the first time evar Tite Kubo would be in the US for convention events and autograph signings. Tite Kubo! I swear to god my timing sucks. Next year I'm getting a four-day pass.
I can't objectively judge how well this Con went, but I can say that it was a rather enlightening experience to see just how many other insane human beings would want to dress up a.) as Shinigami and other fictional characters or b.) in a speedo as I-don't-even-want-to-know-
Friday, July 4, 2008
In which I Review Fireworks
They are pretty. They have categories, but I will bore the shit out of you if I list them. Suffice it to say there are *good* fireworks and *bad* fireworks.
Good: The brilliant (huge) ones that sprinkle slowly down in a shower of pixie dust. Especially when there's a lot of them.
-The ones that explode and proceed to spin outward like comets on crack.
-The ones that sound like machine guns going off in little spotty explosions all over the sky.
-Any firework that stays lit for more than two seconds.
Bad: Medium-sized color bursts which die as soon as they explode. I see their usefulness in padding the end-of-show, but what's the point of shooting them by themselves?
-little flaming stars which fly up and then go *pnk* in a puff of smoke.
-A "sprinkler" firework which doesn't last nearly long enough. They annoy me.
I like giant pyrotechnical shows when they're well-done. But I often wonder if the shooters have any sort of technique beyond the "sprinkling green star + green burst, repeat". I found myself becoming somewhat bored halfway during the show due to a lack of interesting, long-lasting effects. Not that I ask for the *awesome* comets-on-crack every two launches, but at least intersperse the dull "normal" fireworks with some contrasting ones! There was a huge sky-filling burst that I found really refreshing after an interminable period of small fry, but to my disappointment the shooters did not repeat the performance. Well, maybe I'm being bitchy. The audience seemed to appreciate the special fireworks whenever they went off. Still, a bit of artistic planning would work wonders.
My mother wondered if all fireworks are actually made in China. Oh cruel irony.
Good: The brilliant (huge) ones that sprinkle slowly down in a shower of pixie dust. Especially when there's a lot of them.
-The ones that explode and proceed to spin outward like comets on crack.
-The ones that sound like machine guns going off in little spotty explosions all over the sky.
-Any firework that stays lit for more than two seconds.
Bad: Medium-sized color bursts which die as soon as they explode. I see their usefulness in padding the end-of-show, but what's the point of shooting them by themselves?
-little flaming stars which fly up and then go *pnk* in a puff of smoke.
-A "sprinkler" firework which doesn't last nearly long enough. They annoy me.
I like giant pyrotechnical shows when they're well-done. But I often wonder if the shooters have any sort of technique beyond the "sprinkling green star + green burst, repeat". I found myself becoming somewhat bored halfway during the show due to a lack of interesting, long-lasting effects. Not that I ask for the *awesome* comets-on-crack every two launches, but at least intersperse the dull "normal" fireworks with some contrasting ones! There was a huge sky-filling burst that I found really refreshing after an interminable period of small fry, but to my disappointment the shooters did not repeat the performance. Well, maybe I'm being bitchy. The audience seemed to appreciate the special fireworks whenever they went off. Still, a bit of artistic planning would work wonders.
My mother wondered if all fireworks are actually made in China. Oh cruel irony.
Saturday, June 28, 2008
Romanticized Smut
In all truth, I've actually read a total of zero romance novels from beginning to end. However, I have sampled various authors and styles at times, in some sort of desperate attempt to convince myself that there is hope in today's literary market. And because I know that sooner or later, there will be sex. Often multiple times. Always with better results than any of us reading this have ever gotten. But move aside from such crude considerations for a minute, and consider:
-is it really necessary for the female main character to have wavy bronze locks, burnished firegold by the light of the dying sun, which curve tantalizingly about her slim marble-white shoulders?
-must she be a paragon of chasteness and femininity, except when she's not, and then a former paragon driven to unsavory practices by hard times? (it matters not; either way she will be "redeemed" by the male lead as soon as he appears on the scene)
-how many Irish warrior-maids, genteel country girls, and wanton noblewomen did the Old Country have?
-how are you supposed to tell one woman apart from another?
-how are you supposed to tell one man apart from another?
...also, I've been googling "romance novel", and am now slightly disturbed by what I'm finding. Especially the below site.
http://www.yournovel.com/
Several templates. Your and your lover's name. Juicy details about the relationship. A fantasy experience customized just for you for about 50 bucks.
I would not be averse to someone writing a story about me. I would, however, balk at the idea that any human relationship can be thus packaged in a template of the most stereotypically romantic drivel, especially when it is entirely fantasized and unrealistic. What romance is there in having a complete stranger creating fictitious events about your relationship? What literary value does such a chimera have? More to the point, what exactly does this say about the entire genre of romantic novels? That they are customizeable, and thus forgettable? That characterization is negligible, as long as the action is packed into a desert oasis, Oahu, an outer space adventure, a jarring brush with corsairs, and an avalanche, all in the course of seeking love?
I am vaguely amused, of course, that Orwell predicted something exactly of this sort.
-is it really necessary for the female main character to have wavy bronze locks, burnished firegold by the light of the dying sun, which curve tantalizingly about her slim marble-white shoulders?
-must she be a paragon of chasteness and femininity, except when she's not, and then a former paragon driven to unsavory practices by hard times? (it matters not; either way she will be "redeemed" by the male lead as soon as he appears on the scene)
-how many Irish warrior-maids, genteel country girls, and wanton noblewomen did the Old Country have?
-how are you supposed to tell one woman apart from another?
-how are you supposed to tell one man apart from another?
...also, I've been googling "romance novel", and am now slightly disturbed by what I'm finding. Especially the below site.
http://www.yournovel.com/
Several templates. Your and your lover's name. Juicy details about the relationship. A fantasy experience customized just for you for about 50 bucks.
I would not be averse to someone writing a story about me. I would, however, balk at the idea that any human relationship can be thus packaged in a template of the most stereotypically romantic drivel, especially when it is entirely fantasized and unrealistic. What romance is there in having a complete stranger creating fictitious events about your relationship? What literary value does such a chimera have? More to the point, what exactly does this say about the entire genre of romantic novels? That they are customizeable, and thus forgettable? That characterization is negligible, as long as the action is packed into a desert oasis, Oahu, an outer space adventure, a jarring brush with corsairs, and an avalanche, all in the course of seeking love?
I am vaguely amused, of course, that Orwell predicted something exactly of this sort.
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