| Sleep deprived and enslaved to my work. |
[21 Jul 2004|12:27pm] |
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music |
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Dying Fetus - Grotesque Impalement |
] |
I’ve now realized why the daily LiveJournal updates having been slipping, and it’s because it takes a few days for me to accumulate enough garbage to share.
In Journalism today we learned that that most interesting content should come first, which I usually do, and the cheeky little human interest tales (cat saved from tree) should come last. I don’t know if I’m out to prove that I actually pay attention in class or what, so yeah, nevermind. I’ve had horrible sleeping patterns as of lately; moreso than usual, but it’s going to be hard to point a finger outward in this case. I usually call bullshit when someone says that their alarm didn’t wake them, but such was my story for the morning. After having woken up multiple times throughout the night I glanced over at a clock that read 7:26. I’m pretty sure it’s impossible to sleep through nearly thirty minutes of screeching Superjoint Ritual, but it would seem that I was able to do just that.
And the drag that was the above paragraph leads us into the even less interesting second. My absence and sleeplessness of Monday can be pretty easily accounted for. Reader beware, the following text is going to lay thick on the technical crap, though I’ll dumb it down as much as possible. Nathan came over that afternoon with Xbox in hand, much to my delight. With him finally getting the system from his godparents, it meant that I’d not have to lug mine over there all of the time. And that my friend is the end of the happiness. I cracked open his system to lay the soldering points, only for it to say that they were not successfully bridged. With this being the eight or ninth system I’d done, not once had I seen that error. I’m fairly confident in my ability to solder, and did just that… three times. Each time I received the same error and became increasingly irritated with each failure. I’ve done a considerable amount of reading about software exploits (no bios flashing necessary), and seeing as the main issue had been resolved with them I figured it was worth a shot. Having never actually done one before, and knowing the level of risk involved, it was safe to say that I was a tad nervous. I loaded the 007 exploit to be able to connect the system to the computer, only for that to fail. For the next few hours Nathan looked on as I struggled to establish a connection between the Xbox and the computer. Frustrated, I tried the same environment on mine, only for it to connect without hesitation. After playing Sherlock Holmes for a while, I concluded that his network port was dead, which was a considerable blow. I read around the forums for a while, and came upon some information about hot-swapping two Xbox hard drives between a modified and unmodified system. It was a pain in the ass to say the least, and resulted in me staying up the entire night in uncharted territory. With an ungodly amount of patience and stubbornness I eventually got it going, much to even my own surprise. And huzzah, there’s my incredibly long story about something those not dorkily inclined will immediately pass over. I told you I’m struggling…
Now we go for the humorous wrap-up. Yesterday afternoon I came in contact with a pet peeve of mine I’d long since forgotten. It goes a little something like this. Kyle is walking and makes eye contact with another individual who returns the glance. Kyle walks by the person who says hello, and replies with what he thinks an exchange of their greeting. He then realizes that they weren’t talking to him and blushes with embarrassment. There aren’t words to convey how stupid I feel when that occurs. I don’t know that there was anything redeeming said within this guy, but oh well.
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| Too much fun on aim. |
[21 Jul 2004|11:34am] |
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music |
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Dying Fetus - And The Weak Shall Be Crushed |
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(11:15:10) kyle: i dunno, it's just all off.
(11:15:55) moni: don't fret... everything will be fine, ha.
(11:16:29) kyle: unless i were to implode, in which case, it might not.
(11:17:32) moni: true, but that's highly unlikely along with spontaneous human combustion.
(11:17:54) kyle: true, but are we talking your laws of science or mine?
(11:19:06) moni: you have your own laws of science?
(11:19:34) kyle: in which it's perfectly logical that i may implode.
(11:20:22) moni: I suppose, if your laws are based on illogical physiology... then okay.
(11:20:49) kyle: blasphemy!
(11:21:26) kyle: retract your statement or face excommunication.
(11:22:01) moni: I'm a rebel...
(11:22:08) moni: excommunicate me and place a stone on my chest.
(11:22:11) kyle: we'll crush you!
(11:22:16) moni: it'll be like puritan times.
(11:22:22) moni: good times.
(11:22:36) moni: or is it quaker? hmm... I forget my history.
(11:22:40) kyle: and i'm far too amused with this scenario.
(11:22:58) moni: I'm sure you are...
(11:23:08) moni: crushing monica like the olden days seems like such a hoot.
(11:23:41) kyle: the olden day aspect was your own invention.
(11:23:53) kyle: so don't hold me to that.
(11:24:24) moni: uh huh... you were thinking it, don't evade the truth.
(11:24:46) kyle: i just wanted kylez science kiddo minions.
(11:25:26) kyle: and a land in which i'd be free to implode as i saw fit.
(11:25:54) moni: I, personally, do not want le kylez to implode.
(11:26:28) kyle: *shrugs* then we'll adhere to your science... for now.
(11:27:27) kyle: but your variety of reality can't replace the missing ice cream in the freezer, whereas in kylez land such a thing is a common occurence.
(11:27:42) moni: they're not my personal theories and laws... they're universally used.
(11:28:07) moni: errr, usually missing ice cream is a result of consumption by another being.
(11:28:15) kyle: gah, i need a term for this, like nationalist, but with science.
(11:28:36) kyle: scientificalist?
(11:28:55) kyle: an egotist of their understanding of science.
(11:29:04) moni: ha, I'm no egotist.
(11:29:12) kyle: ah well.
(11:29:24) moni: this can always be settled with violence...
(11:29:29) kyle: and there's my poor attempt to be amusing for the day.
(11:29:40) moni: or I could simply wave a carton of mint chocolate chip in front of kylez.
(11:29:42) kyle: want to punch me yet again?
(11:29:43) moni: that works.
(11:30:10) kyle: that would definately settle me.
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| Peter Parker is a chode. |
[18 Jul 2004|08:50pm] |
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Deicide - Standing in the Flames |
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Time for the obligatory weekend update, consisting of the fun that it is to be Kyle, as well as whatever random text there is to spew from his mind.
This weekend’s movie of choice was Spiderman 2, which was amazingly not all that bad upon reflection. I went in with low expectations, and would suggest that anyone who doesn’t know what they’re in for to do so the same. It seems very lame to draw a relationship between the movie and my life, but I’m going to do just that. I’ll be taking a number of liberties here, so just bare with me. In one facet of my life, I’m Kyle the mediocre college student and recluse. But when the masked is applied, I’m Kyle the programmer kiddo, and loved worldwide. I’d rather keep the two separate, though the dorky content has a way of making its way in here on occasion. I’ve probably got more than enough right to be cocky as the result of what I dabble in, but it’s not within me to do so. It’s not something I can really ramble to many people about on a level that actually makes sense, so humbly it resides on my resume. During summer as the strong bonds with friends have weakened, I find myself confiding in the dork personality far more often than not. While I’m mocked at for “hanging out with code” as often as I do, it keeps me going to know that I’m a “somebody”. Since I don’t make for much of a musician or scholarly student, I get my self worth in knowing that I help others and enrich their lives. Call it a stretch if you like, but it works for me. Adding to the emo ying and yang of it all, here’s another example. All day I walk around with headphones and a scowl, keeping a low profile, and speaking very directly when spoken to. A part of me doesn’t want anyone to come close to me, and the other half is begging to be held. Yeah, let’s give this up already, since I’ve been described as “always depressed”.
My weekend was split in hanging out with the two parties that I frequent. In one corner we have Lewis and Nathan, and in the other Roy, Josh, Lance, and company. I play somewhat of a politician in making the rounds to both groups, but think fondly back of when everyone was united. Nathan came over Friday afternoon and we watched the movie above, and rented a film called “Gacy” which was a semi-biography of John Wayne Gacy. It was intriguing to me that he had the boy fetish that Jeffery Dahmer did. He didn’t seem to be as intimidating of a character as I would have liked though. Perhaps it wasn’t as Hollywood-ized as I’d grown accustomed to. I wish they’d have played more into his being a clown, because they certainly were willing to take liberties with his tale. We ended up playing a considerable amount of Halo as well, which made for good times with the newer levels.
The mother called today, and we ended up speaking of Monica for a good while. She still seems distraught at the whole prospect, and has more or less stated that she’d chop me up into small pieces were I to leave the state. I can’t hold anyone up to what Monica represents, because I’m just kidding myself in doing so. How many arguments have you ever won with a female when using logic? What’s that you say, none? I thought so, as it was certainly the case for me prior to this one. I guess that was one of my more recent “wow” revelations in speaking to her. Hopefully she’ll be able to visit if she finds me to be more valuable than a pair of shoes.
I also changed up the layout again, though that really goes without saying. Take care.
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| Old ladies lessen my sanity. |
[14 Jul 2004|10:28pm] |
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Dying Fetus - Procreate the Malformed |
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At 10:00 Kyle enters the computer lab to scribble before nodding off. If the writing feels forced, know that it is.
I feel like something of a lameass when I don’t post regularly, though I’m fairly certain that I burnt myself out with that last six page killing spree. It seems almost impossible that I’d reach some level of normalcy considering my temperament. Despite claims of indifference, I’m just starting to settle into a routine. I’ve not had anything resembling a mood swing in a good while, so there hasn’t been much to expel from my typically angsty chest. Without the fuel that makes me grumble, I suppose I’ll be resorting to what I do best… making fun of others. It seems like an easy way out, but in all reality people tend to prefer the lighthearted entries.
This comes so much easier with the presence of emotion… I know that I’m being misread lately, out of a sheer lack of understanding. While I seemingly have a never ending supply of sexist remarks, anyone who knows me can vouch that I don’t genuinely hate women. Both sexes are inclined to stupidity and deserving of ridicule, so forgive me in advance if I’m not getting in a fair share of anti-male content. Before anyone takes me for an asshole ask Mary, Lori, Carmina, Victoria, Veronica, or any of the local females regarding my behavior. Seeing as I’m about to make fun of a woman, though the gender isn’t especially pertinent, it’d be best to get that out of the way. Kyle loves women and Joshie; end of story.
Kyle knows a thing or two about computers. Having been a technician for three years, done phone tech support, and countless home visits, it’s safe to say that I know my way around a computer without coming across as too arrogant. And before you’d take me as an advocate for genocide, I don’t hate the elderly either. Without sounding like too much of a dick, computers and old folk do not mix. It’s not that they can’t learn, but it’s been my experience throughout the years that they either don’t have the time or desire to do so. For handy background information it’s also worth noting that Kyle is an extreme perfectionist, to the point that it hampers his life. I will make for a very strict boss if I’m ever in a place of authority, because I’m every bit as demanding of my peers as I am myself. When you put Kyle, an elderly woman, and a computer together, the result is not pretty. “But how were you able to endure such conditions if you’re so impatient?” the inquisitive reader might inquire. The answer quite frankly is because I was making twenty dollars an hour in the process. Want to see a huge smile and uncommonly friendly behavior radiate from Kyle? Turn him into a twenty dollar an hour computer slave. In my Desktop Publishing class this semester I made the mistake of demonstrating my competency in using a computer. Two elderly ladies positioned themselves on both sides of me as a result of this, and I should have known it to be trouble. It’s fine and all, but I don’t extend the same courtesy to one who’s constantly pestering me that I would one paying me twenty dollars an hour. Unknowingly, I speak rather condescendingly to them, as I would anyone that I was trying to assist in using a computer. It doesn’t help that the lady next to me refers to me as “Ryan” despite having corrected her on multiple occasions. She uses it every instance where she’s speaking to me, which is damned often. “Could you help me with this Ryan? Come here for a second Ryan. Mine doesn’t look like yours Ryan.” This wasn’t meant to be so angry, but oh well.
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| Just because I love you. |
[13 Jul 2004|08:35pm] |
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music |
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Dying Fetus - One Shot One Kill |
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TWELVE GREAT MOVIES...
01. Requiem for a Dream
02. A Clockwork Orange
03. Bad Santa
04. Natural Born Killers
05. Fight Club
06. Joe the King
07. Meet the Parents
08. Adaptation
09. Memento
10. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
11. Amadeus
12. Silence of the Lambs
ELEVEN GOOD BANDS/ARTISTS...
01. Nine Inch Nails
02. Aphex Twin
03. Rage Against the Machine
04. Tool
05. Radiohead
06. KMFDM
07. Manson
08. Sepultura
09. Black Sabbath
10. Deicide
11. Dying Fetus
TEN THINGS ABOUT YOU...
01. Misanthrope
02. Perfectionist
03. Sarcastic
04. Pessimist
05. Cynical
06. Agnostic
07. Tolerant
08. Liberal
09. Crass
10. Dork
NINE CLOSE FRIENDS...
01. Lewis
02. Ryan
03. Josh
04. Monica
05. Roy
06. Nathan
07. Will
08. Raymond
09. Curt
EIGHT FAVORITE FOODS/DRINKS...
01. A&W cream soda
02. Minute Maid fruit punch
03. Braum's strawberry malts
04. Denny's french toast
05. Heavily salted catfish
06. Chicken fried steak
07. Smore/blueberry Poptarts
08. Fajitas *sigh*
SEVEN THINGS YOU WEAR DAILY...
01. Contacts
02. Headphones
03. Stinky socks
04. Boxers unless commando
05. Denim jeans or shorts
06. Vans
07. Watch
SIX THINGS THAT ANNOY YOU...
01. Humanity
02. Republicans
03. Internet downtime
04. Chewing gum
05. Nail files
06. Bic pens
FIVE SHOWS YOU WATCH...
01. South Park
02. Chappelle's Show
03. Aqua Teen Hunger Force
04. The Daily Show
05. Conan O'Brien
FOUR THINGS YOU TOUCH EVERYDAY...
01. Monitor
02. Keyboard
03. Mouse
04. Genitals
THREE CELEBRITIES YOU HAVE A CRUSH ON...
01. Jennifer Connelly
02. Shannyn Sossamon
03. Alison Lohman
ONE PERSON YOU COULD SPEND THE REST OF YOUR LIFE WITH...
01. Hah...
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| And in class today... |
[13 Jul 2004|09:31am] |
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music |
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Dying Fetus - Nocturnal Crucifixion |
] |
We learned that pictures aren't as flattering when you've only got one chance at them.
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| Where's Kyle? |
[12 Jul 2004|07:39am] |
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Working on my computer, though I should be back on aim by this afternoon.
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| Searching for completion. |
[10 Jul 2004|09:23pm] |
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music |
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Dying Fetus - Stop at Nothing |
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With this being the hyped sixth entry in the series, I’ll try not to make it too much of a disappointment. *dies*
Laugh if you must, but I basically dedicated today to providing a quality account of my trip. With my memory being something that degrades with time, this is something I’d like to be able to look back on; sort of like The Butterfly Effect. Err… no. After having met her family, what else was there to do but go bowling? I was a little nervous, because despite me being a decent bowler, it’d been over a semester since I’d gone. When we’d just started to bowl my parents called and wanted to meet us. It made for an interesting time, because there were three audience members for the two of us. Neither of us really wanted advice, but my dad had no problem in giving it. “Get the hand”, and “like a handshake” were the two most random and pointless things he could have possibly came up with. It was great though, because it provided for enough material for me to draw out long after it should have been funny. Before I turn into an ass, I’ll refrain from posting all of the scores, though I did get a 149 on my second game. Seeing as I used to average a 130, I was pleased. Thanks kindly to Coach Holland for my two semesters of useless physical education credit. After bowling two games we headed outside, for what was a surprisingly un-emo departure. I’d have thought it harder, but the parents were nagging at me about the time. We got in a few more pictures, hugged, and said goodbye. And that my friend is the end of one ungodly long tale.
With that being said, it’s finally time for what I’ve promised all along. I am beyond done with distributing pedestals. If I’m going to look up to someone, it is because they’ve proved themselves worthwhile as opposed to my usual “build them up and realize they suck” approach. Countless times I was asked what possessed me to be willing to trek to New Mexico and the answer in a word is Monica. Monica has been there for me on a daily basis for the past few months, and makes my days bearable in a way that I’ve been longing for. Despite all of my Nazi-ism with the female race, Monica is the likely the sole reason I’m not leaping at the prospect at homosexuality. How about we just ramble on before time runs out?
I know that I’m shooting myself in the foot to some extent in doing this, but oh well. This is a proud public entry, and as Lewis would say, “fuck other people.”
Monica is brilliant, not only by female standards, but any standard. I can actually talk to her as if I’m talking to a person. She possesses a charm and level of wit uncommon to either gender. How often can someone make me genuinely laugh without it being my humbling them? Very rarely…
Monica is wonderfully talented in her ability to play the guitar as well as sing. She’s also somehow able to achieve this without being a right brained loon. You mean there are creative people who aren’t insane? Huzzah!
Monica is gorgeous, despite her trying her damndest to say otherwise. I could give less of a fuck what some dorky looking mall kiddo said. Though I should go on, but the lab is closing, and I’m out of space for text. Hopefully you’ve enjoyed the read, and take care.
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| Things start to look up. |
[10 Jul 2004|08:11pm] |
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music |
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Dying Fetus - Nocturnal Crucifixion |
] |
This would have made far more sense were I able to keep all of the entries to myself for one big release. But then again, there aren’t many days I produce this much text.
Alrighty, so Laurie is finally out of the picture, and things start picking up… in a big way. When it came time for her to head out, I feared like hell that this was going to be the end of our gathering. She asked something along the lines of “Do you want to still hang out with Monica?” to which my head exploded. Not having been alone with her at all... gah. We arranged that it’d be best were I to go and pick up my car so that we’d have transportation aside from Laurie. I’d have just had my own earlier had the parents not have had it for shopping purposes.
We headed back to the hotel, ditched Laurie, and were finally able to start talking on the level I was accustomed to. She started providing driving directions, though I hadn’t a clue where we were headed. We eventually ended up back at the house, though it was too late to go inside. And thus begins what was the most enjoyable time of my trip. For the next few hours we sat outside chatting, without the barrier of the goddamned text. I hadn’t spoken so frankly in ages. We were able to vent all of our angst regarding the dilly, moronic locals, and basically anything that came to mind. It was insane to speak to someone on such a level having never met face to face. In that, I mean that there was so much background information to fill in the pauses, which was great if not surreal. Actually, the strangest feeling I had was upon entering her room and staring at the wall that provides the backdrop for her webcam. It wasn’t dejavu so much as disbelief. I don’t know that I’ve words to describe the emotion it evoked really. Eventually her mother came outside with a random excuse about why we should disband, which was disheartening though ineffective. An hour or so later we voluntarily called it an evening, but it turned out alright as the parentals got me up early the next day. We departed with a hug, which was damned nice.
The next day was dedicated to my mother’s addiction for crap, better known as “knickknacks”. We headed to Denny’s for breakfast which was great, despite Laurie harassing it. Since I’ve no concept of time, or time zones for that matter I ended up moronically calling an hour early. With that being the case, I ended up stuck in a ridiculously big junk store for a while. It’s wasn't actually as bad as I make it out to be, and I picked up a New Mexico keychain and wooden plaque that said “Durango Colo.” After an hour passed I called again, and was quickly joined by Monica and her mother. I was a little cautious of introducing my parents to her, because unlike them she doesn’t exude cheese. It went relatively well, and Monica ended up thankfully stealing me away. I’d have much rather had the outcome we had than her being trapped for the day with us shopping. We drove to meet up with her sister who was over the top, in a good way. I also got to meet Desi, which was neat though unfortunately she didn’t get to tag along. In contrast, we did have her brother’s kid Trinity, who was a darling little girl when not enduring abuse. The most amusing line by her sister was definitely that of boasting of owning vibrators insinuating that something had to have been done after ten years of marriage (haha/ack).
And onward we go to the long awaited final entry.
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| Must... drown... Laurie. |
[10 Jul 2004|04:40pm] |
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music |
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Suffocation - Demise of the Clone |
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The computer lab is open for another hour today, so back to writing we go. This content will be significantly happier than the prior entries.
Though Kyle was excessively quiet at the park, his shining moment was in that of making fun of the white trash (Hispanic?) guy. Afterwards we hadn’t a clue what to do and made our way back to the mall. When walking toward the entrance, Monica was informed by a car of thuggish guys that she “has back” in a throwback to Sir Mixalot. For a town with 30,000 residents, their mall ran circles around the one of San Angelo or even Abilene for that matter. I can’t recall how long it has been since I’ve seen something resembling a real arcade. As we walked around, I spoke of how fun it is to ridicule DDR kiddos, and my love for fighters. Laurie played a game of ski-ball, and was surprisingly good at it, though it may have been luck. My favorite thing to come across in it was a ghetto basketball game, which kept repeating a line that regrettably I’ve forgotten. After the arcade we wandered around the mall, laughing at the wannabe gangster kiddos. When peering into random stores, I noticed that The Buckle sold “G-unit” clothing. Since Monica is synonymous with the Chappelle’s Show line, it only seemed appropriate to snap a picture of it. An associate approached us asking what we were doing, and then a second did the same more angrily insisting that we could not take pictures of the merchandise. I didn’t think it any big deal, but Monica and I ran off regardless, leaving a dopey Laurie behind to explain. What horrible kiddos we were…
Next I suggested we head for ice cream since that was something often said in discussion. Monica purchased a random flavor that she wasn’t fond of, and amusingly stabbed at it with her spoon in angst. I didn’t have a napkin, and likely had it all over my face the entire time. It should have been a more joyous occasion, but once again the presence of Laurie detracted from it. Not much in the way of ice cream content… Afterward we hadn’t a clue what to do and went to Monica’s house. She was somewhat sheepish about taking me over there, because her mother hadn’t been informed that I was coming on that date. For all that I’d heard about her, she was wonderfully sarcastic. The line about her anatomy that was repeated by her sister threw me off, but once I’d gotten a grasp on their mannerism it was damned fun. I would (and could) have played along, but again I was far too concerned with the impression I was going to leave. As with Laurie, I did eventually end up relaxing a tad and made her laugh on a couple of occasions.
I’d thought we were going to watch Fahrenheit 9/11 at her house, but instead we ended up watching the monstrosity that was The Butterfly Effect. It was hard not to pick at the movie, just because the lead, Ashton Kutcher, was such a terrible actor. He may do well for playing a dumbass ala That Seventies Show, but placing him in a serious role was a mistake. The premise for the film was actually not too bad, though I still question why it was chosen over mine. We could have also played Super Mario Brothers 3 and watched the Mario piano video. Why Monica, dear god why?
After the movie had concluded, we were finally able to ditch Laurie. It was a huge relief, because I was finally able to rid myself of the title of mute. We drove back to the motel and were able to pick up my car, which I was somewhat squeamish about doing. Onward we go to the next one, entirely Laurie free at that!
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| All bullshit aside. |
[10 Jul 2004|02:31pm] |
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music |
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Dying Fetus - One Shot One Kill |
] |
With all of the bullshit out of the way *gasp*, we might be able to get into what actually transpired.
Thankfully Monica has an account of this, so I’ll probably end up lifting details from it. After the oh so enjoyable drive, we pulled into Farmington around five. I contacted her, and we arranged to meet up at the mall. The parents and I headed over there, though I tried convincing them that there wasn’t much point in being so early. We sat around for at least twenty minutes before her arrival (which was on time) amused by more of my mother’s antics. As if I didn’t know what she looked like, I was asked if every girl that entered the doors was her. Being accustomed to people arriving thirty minutes late on a good day, it was another instance in which I’d have been happier alone. I had to constantly reassure them that all was well and to just sit tight.
Monica arrived as scheduled with her buddy Laurie. Though she said I looked disappointed (hah), the first thing I noticed was just how attractive she was. After being trained to think of her as nothing short of a moo cow, someone has been kidding herself. What should have been our exchanging of hellos transitioned into the cheesy harassment by the parentals. Thankfully it didn’t last long, and Monica and company stole me away for dinner arrangements. I don’t mean to speak ill of Laurie, but will end up doing so anyhow. Despite her being a friendly soul, she ended up dominating the conversation. My retraction in non one-on-one conversation has always been a “problem” though. I end up backing off only to occasionally chime in, and am using mistaken for a mute. The food, Johnny Carinos, was great for a restaurant I’d never been to before. I sat around listening to the two of them speak, but had a hard time finding opportunities to speak. The subject matter was pretty random, and I couldn’t have said much without annihilating the impression of normalcy that I was trying to make.
In my head I nix most of the events where Laurie was present, but that’d end up omitting much of what actually happened. After dinner we headed to the park to walk around. I started talking more than I previously had, but still felt as if I was the odd man out. We wandered around telling stories of bug hunting and mocking the runners. One occurrence that Monica would rather me omit that I heavily capitalized on was her mastery of the Spanish language. When crossing a bridge, we came across a sign which read “No swimming. No nadar.” She curiously asked what a nadar was, and I wouldn’t let it die. I swear I’m not really out to embarrass anyone, but there’s something within me that causes me to cling to quirks for comfort. It’s never really anything degrading so much as it puts me at ease. I’m guilty of laughing at myself just as often, so yeah, Kyle had a nice outburst regarding the cyclist that was his stupid moment of the day. Apparently yelling at people on bicycles is much more entertaining in Texas. The other fun to be had at the park was with that of the gaseous pentagram ball. There was a huge spinning ball of marble which was apparently something of a big deal. After seeing a little kid spinning atop of it, I took a shot at doing so myself. Needless to say, I no longer have the body of a child, and was too afraid of opening my skull. I made an ass of myself, but it made for good times. I tried snapping a few random pictures, because it always turns out that I’m trying to get a few ones in as everyone is ready to depart. None of them were anything to brag of, but at least I didn’t return empty handed in the photo department.
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| Additional background information. |
[10 Jul 2004|01:51pm] |
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music |
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Dying Fetus - Procreate the Malformed |
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“So…” sayeth Kyle, “Time to begin scribbling down the book of Monica before my memories fade into a fuzzy oblivion.”
No apologies for the delay, it’s just that I needed some time to gain my composure which I hadn’t had until now. A sleep deprived Kyle does not make for intelligible text. Last weekend my parents tossed around the idea of heading to see Monica during the break. I (understandably) become somewhat defensive, and told them not to joke about such matters. The last thing Monica needed to be told was that I was heading over there only for it to fall through. I kept quiet about it right up to the point that it was confirmed a possibility, and then brought it up. I was giddy with excitement, though skeptical until we were actually in the car driving into New Mexico.
And now we bring into question the motives of the parentals. Why is it that they were up for a twelve hour drive? What seems like something of a simplistic question deserves its own chunk of text. My mother has a habit of calling every few days to inquire of my wellbeing. Although I’ve tried to discourage her from doing so, one of the first questions to inevitably come up is that of how the female hunt is going. You’d think that threatening her with homosexuality would be enough to put a stop to that, but you’d be damned wrong. In the past few months every time that I’ve been interrogated about girlies, I’ve replied that there isn’t one up to par locally. As hard as she may press for a local, it just isn’t happening. After my disgruntled ramblings, Monica’s name is dropped to an uneasy version of my mother. They see speaking to females using the interweb as something of fantasy, or disillusionment if you will. This could be Josh’s conspiracy theorist influence rubbing off, but I’m fairly convinced that they were more intent on “snapping me out” of speaking to girls using the computer. On the drive up there, she questioned numerous times if I really thought that we’d be able to get along, if I’d like the way she looked, and visa versa. I told her that her doubt was unfounded, but for all I’m concerned this was coming from just another person who seems an individual as a means to a physical end (“How are you going to kiss on an internet girl?”).
The actual drive was hellish as could be expected. And in saying this I mean the company, not the actual hours invested. My parents are notorious for being at each others throats about driving. While my headphones were able suppress their bickering to some extent, I’d have almost wished that I’d have made the trip alone. I really don’t mean to come across as bitchy; you’d just have had to have been there to understand. My dad was a road warrior, and did all of the driving himself even though I offered to help as much as needed. And again, before I revisit the complaint department, I couldn’t have made the trip without their financial support. It is impossible to do anything with my mother without the constant reminder of the expense involved. If I didn’t know that it takes a nice amount of gasoline to drive for twenty four hours, I certainly do now. The hotel room was another added factor. It’d be best to clarify what I’m getting at before it’s misinterpreted. My mother is a goddamned miser. I understood that there was a level of monetary commitment involved, but fuck me if we’ve actually done anything as a family in years (my dad’s point). It’s as if nothing can be enjoyable for my mother, because she’s too concerned about spending money that’s already been allotted for vacation. So yeah, let’s get off of this already, and into happier times.
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| Venturing where I'm headed. |
[09 Jul 2004|05:32am] |
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Aphex Twin - Seven |
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Ok, so it’s four in the morning, and I’m not having the easiest time sleeping despite the education resuming in a few hours from now.
How about a disclaimer, shall we? Being the sensitive person that I am (mild sarcasm), it’d be best that grounds for reading the following text were established. There is a certain breed of individual who feel predisposed to write words of inspiration such as “get a blowup doll” on my door, who despite all of their willpower might unknowingly say something unintentionally “hateful”. Before I get too preachy, all I’m asking is that nothing distasteful is said, as I’ll have no problem in deleting juvenile comments.
There’s an uneasy feeling inside of my skull when I know that I have enough content to fill a book, and haven’t the slightest idea where to begin. History generally serves well for an introduction. With this being July, I’ve been single for the past seven months. Although lame, it’s no longer a prospect that blows my mind. After the fallout of Jo, I hadn’t the slightest idea what it was to be alone. Without the regular presence of a significant other, or even Lewis, I’d no one to confide in. It’s worth mentioning that Therese was still a very strong presence right up to the point that I became no longer necessary. As much as I’d like to be upset with that situation, I know all too well how it goes. Friends of the opposite sex become disposable as soon as a partner comes along. Thoughts of what it is to be single are quickly lost, and there’s a feeling of euphoria in knowing that all seems well with the world. Seeing as I refuse to listen to females complain to me regarding their boyfriends, I don’t know what would come of it had it not have played out the way it had. This is all overly simplified for the purpose of making the entry a self-containing unit, so if you’d like to venture into the depths of the text for further reading (hah), I’d be no one to stop you.
Christ it feels odd to make myself so venerable after having read her glorious four-lined entry… Early on in the month of March Monica enters the picture. She messaged me on the premise of being Therese’s interweb buddy, supposedly to pick me apart. I wasn’t immediately able to place what it was that drew me to her, but looking back could do so now. The conversation was on a level unbeknownst to me, even by the insanely high standard set by Jo. Monica was very open and real, which was far from anything normally obtainable. I sound like such a lameass in constantly repeating this, but there are very few females that I grant the title of “person”. In saying this, I mean that I’m able to speak to them on an intellectual level that would match that of a male friend. Yes, gah, I’m a sexist caveman, forgive me already. I’m no one to say that males are the brightest creatures either for that matter. People, as a whole suck, and the list of whom I’d consider to be genuine would span a few fingers at best.
Monica and I began speaking on what became a daily basis, and she slowly gravitated toward being the person I cared most for. There was something very different about this one. It’s something of a rarity that I initiate conversation online. I’ve been told that this is misinterpreted as arrogance, but I really don’t mind. If I sign online and idle for a few minutes, inevitably someone will strike up a conversation. Monica broke free of this mold, and became one that I purposely sought out. I’m certain she can recall my awkwardness and puzzlement at that. This is incredibly hard to write… more tomorrow.
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| Advertising class makes for easy content. |
[05 Jul 2004|08:25pm] |
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Dying Fetus - Nocturnal Crucifixion |
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And back on schedule we go in hopes of a regular entry. As liberating as it feels to have a summary of what I’d like said, I’m much fonder of having my reader suffer.
It’s eight in the evening, and though I feel a tad disoriented, I committed myself to writing. Today was the long hyped group presentation in my Advertising class, and what fun there was to be had in that. We were the third to go out of four today, which was something of a relief. If it hadn’t been evident up to this point that I was in a class with communication majors, today was their time to shine. If this had have been my speech classed I would have outright died… or went after the evil Russian female as I did the African exchange student before. There are a couple of stories to be said for this, so I’ll just save the better for last. When it came time for my group to present, I wasn’t especially nervous, but hadn’t a clue how things were going to go down. My impulsive group had met without me yesterday on a whim when a girl decided that it’d be more convenient for everyone to meet at her house. Eh, if you can get to school for class, you can certainly do so for us to practice something that’s a quarter of our final grade. Call me coy, but I like to have some level of involvement in these things. I typically take up the role of the leader when doing group work, but we were disorganized beyond help. When we did get up to go, it was an “Oh, yeah, you’re going last Kyle.” Not that I minded it, but meh, still frustrating. Being the wonderful presenter (intense sarcasm) that I am, I stumbled on my words no less than a dozen times. When it came time for me to play my ads everyone laughed, and that was all I really cared about. It’s strange that I can be sure a private person, but the reservations disappear when I’m talking to a microphone. Regardless, we made our time and I declared it success.
Thank the gods of Advertising, because they are going to be the primary fillers of content for this guy. Two of the groups presenting today were exclusively female clubs. Call me wicked, but putting four girls together and expecting them to create something is asking for more than you’d expect. As I noted on the comment section of my evaluations, our class houses some very horny girls. Both of their advertisements were made with the premise of sex, and I started to wonder if unattractive females think about little else. Before you get pissed off, I am an outspoken sexist, and I could care less if this going to inspire you to write a “hateful” comment. The first ad presented went like this. “Ok, so it comes in and you have this woman moaning.” She started imitating this supposed noise by breathing heavily, in a manner that made me pity anyone who actually has to have sex with her. I didn’t know if she was masturbating or what, but it was just wrong. “And then you have the guy come in moaning and grunting, and by this point you’re thinking perverted things.” Sadly to say, neither of her attempts at sounding “seductive” caused me to think of anything sexual. “But then it fades out to a picture of people drinking water, and you realize, oh they were selling water.” I stared at them in disbelief at what I was hearing. As if that wasn’t enough, we had another group of girls do the same. “Ok, so it starts out with a man and woman pouring bottled water on one another’s chest. They then start going at it while continuing to drink the water.” It’s been a while since I’ve wanted so badly to get out of a classroom before I was taking advantage of by one of these atrocious females.
And that my friend is story time with Kyle for today. Take it easy.
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| Random Sunday funday factoids. |
[04 Jul 2004|07:08pm] |
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Dying Fetus - Bathe in the Entrails |
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My group was supposed to meet fifteen minutes ago, but not even one of them showed.
After being exploited with the latest round of Internet Exploder security flaws, I'm now a Firefox convert. You'd think that disabling Activex and using all of the anti-spyware tools would have saved me, but apparently not. I've not been using it for long, but for the time being I say good riddance. I was a Netscape user up to the bitter end when everyone started designing for IE, and it feels cozy being back. It loaded fine in the computer lab as well, so good times.
If anyone is less of a pussy than I am, there's a girl that's "my type" employed at Walgreens. I made eye contact with her upon entering, and when it came time to me checking out she went out of her way to offer that she could check me out at cosmetics. Goddamnit I would have liked to talk to her, but it was not within the cards.
I finally got a chance to watch Fahrenheit 9/11 without nodding off, and experienced the very real "stirred up" feeling that everyone kept describing to me. I'm not the biggest fan of Moore's voiceover, but if it encourages a few more people to vote against Bush, all the better.
It was amusing to see how many comments a picture of Lewis received in comparison to that of my rants.
I feel goddamned alone as usual and have been having some very disturbing dreams.
Fool me five times, shame on me.
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| I am a freak of nature. |
[02 Jul 2004|05:19pm] |
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music |
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Dying Fetus - Grostesque Impalement |
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Quickly purchase a lotto ticket as here’s my second entry already for the weekend. What’s wrong with me?
Today was one of the most peculiar I’ve ever had, and it’s only four in the afternoon. Curt pointed out to me that out of the thirteen references to Dasani in my copy below, three of them were spelled Danasi. He asked if I’d ever been tested for dyslexia, which really threw me off. Having been through therapy and trying to label myself a number of things, I’m not to keen on having titles anymore. My apologies, but I don’t really embrace the title of bipolar anymore. I have very high highs and very low lows, but once I’d gained control of my life I became a very mellow and numb person. Perhaps everyone has to be dragged through the mud before realizing just what’s up?
As I started reading the symptoms for dyslexia, I was very skeptical. The more of it I read, the more it felt like someone was clubbing me over the head with a sledgehammer. Having digested enough text that I felt I was competent in describing the condition, I became less willing to deny it seeing as it’s not a debilitating condition. I called up my mother curiously, and she hesitantly replied that it ran in the family. We talked for a good while and it turns out that my aunt has it as well. Before everyone thinks that I’m nuts (too late?), it’d be good that we establish a working definition of what the heck this actually is. And yeah, before I punch you, I *can* read.
“Dyslexia is an inherited condition that makes it extremely difficult to read, write, and spell in your native language, despite at least average intelligence.”
Before you expect me to get into the whole self-pity victimized position, that’s not what I’m after. There are varying extents of this nonsense. It’s more along the lines of these are little things that have permeated throughout my life and I had no clue what was up. This will actually be somewhat humorous once I get to the examples, which I’ll go ahead and do now. I’ll try not to be too much of a hypochondriac in the mean time.
“People with dyslexia do not make random reading errors. They make very specific types of errors. Their spelling reflects the same types of errors. Reverses means flipping a letter horizontally along a vertical axis, such as reading ded for bed, or bog for dog. Transposes means switching the order of two adjacent letters, such as on for no, gril for girl, own for won.”
I do these constantly, as illustrated in the Danasi text below, “Clesident Priton”, “aminal”, “cimannon”, and all of the other retarded things I say. My favorite verbal trick though is definitely the inverting of the first two letters as in “Clesident Printon”. I can’t ever give out my phone number properly and did so three incorrectly times with one girl.
“Writing capital cursive letters: most upper-case cursive letters require many steps, and most of the steps have directionality as part of them.”
This sounds really cheesy, but I mix up a lot of the upper case capitals, especially my B, D, G, and Q for whatever reason.
Most dyslexic children cannot learn to type on their own, even with a good typing program. They must be directly and explicitly taught, and they must practice frequently.”
This one was also quite amusing. I learned how to formally type, and still type with a method that I developed by myself. I really should record a video of it, because my fingers are all over the place. Despite being yelled at in my typing class, my words per minute were always at a rate that surpassed my peers.
“Geographic directionality: confusion about north, south, east and west; difficulty reading or following maps; chronically get lost when going to new places (and sometimes even to familiar places).
Without Mapquest you’re just kidding yourself. When given verbal directions, I can remember at best three steps. I still have to do the "never eat soggy watermelon" rhyme when trying to figure out which direction is which.
“Memorizing non-meaningful facts (facts that are not personally interesting and personally relevant) is extremely difficult for most dyslexic children and adults. In school, this leads to difficulty learning.
History facts: dates, names, and places. Dyslexic students do well in history classes that emphasize why some event happened, and the consequences of that event, rather than rote memorization of dates and names.”
This kills me more than anything. I have no short term memory whatsoever, and am often accused of being “absent minded”. Unless I’m talking to someone and genuinely care what’s being said the interest isn’t there. When talking to someone I care for my mind is a steel trap, but this pretty much explains why I never mowed the lawn when asked. My parents used to get so frustrated when I’d forget to do minor requests that I’d take out immediately the second time when asked. It wasn’t that I was ever opposed to doing the things I was told, but rather that they’d slipped my mind entirely. That history line was also great. Want to take a stab at why it went from being my favorite class in high school to one I struggled to make a C in at college? Anything that is short term memorization really is horrific for me. The only time I can remember cheating on anything in high school was when I was made to memorize the fifty states and capitals for a test grade. I’ve never done especially well on vocabulary or spelling tests. Everyone is always amazed that I cannot recall the names of the teachers of the classes that I’m taking. In my notebooks for the last semester I wrote their names at the top of each page in attempt to compensate for that and still couldn’t tell you their names right now. I enjoy reading unless it’s useless/factual type information, because I don’t retain much if any of it. I can literally read a page with the best of intentions and move on the next with out having any idea what’s just been processed. I can’t play music very well, because it’s a task for me to try and memorize more than a few notes at once.
“People with dyslexia often have difficulty with time management and time concepts. They often have difficulty:
Telling time using an analog clock (a clock with hands): directionality issues add to this difficulty (which way do the hands go?), as does math. To understand "be home at quarter to six", you must know fractions (quarter means 1/4, 1/4 of an hour is 15 minutes), and you must realize that "to six" means before six, and "before" has directionality issues (is that when the long hand is on the 9 or on the 3?)”
Oh my god this was funny. I’ve owned a digital watch for my entire life because I’ve always said that I couldn’t easily read the hands of a regular watch. You can ask any of my family members this, because even my mom recalled me saying so. My uncle runs a jewelry store and always wanted me to get a nicer watch than my cheap Kmart fare. I wouldn’t do so until he got in a nice digital.
“Knowing the months of the year in sequence. If you haven't mastered this, then you may mis-interpret a due date written as 5/15/98.”
Every day we are asked the date in Spanish class and I sit silently as it’s a struggle for me to decipher it quickly enough. On my last Spanish test I had an inordinate amount of trouble getting the proper order when writing the longer numbers in their proper order.
“Estimating the time a task requires. People with dyslexia are often chronically late to appointments and late turning in homework because they don't accurately estimate the time required to drive to a destination or to complete an assignment.”
I obsess over time, otherwise I lose track of it altogether. Ask anyone in contact with me for plenty of examples of that.
“Remembering the starting times and the sequence of classes in high school, both on regular school days and days with shortened schedules due to rallies or inservice days.”
I laughed hard at this one. For the first two weeks of class I carry my schedule around in fear of entering the wrong class at the wrong time. It’d be funnier had I not done so a number of times. I’ll look down at the numbers, and once I’ve gotten across campus they’ve completely left my mind. That has always weirded me out. Even walking to my second class today I was convinced that the class I was entering had already started because of the disorientation of having gotten out early.
“People with dyslexia have an extremely difficult time organizing physical space. They tend to prefer to pile things rather than to organize them and put them away. This disorganization invades all of their personal space: their rooms, their lockers, their backpacks, their offices, and their cars. They often have extreme difficulty organizing their offices or their study space. It is almost as though if they can't see item (if it is behind a door or in a drawer), they won't know where it is.”
I don’t want to use this as a copout for my messiness, because that sounds like laziness. I get defensive when called messy, because I describe my clutter as controlled chaos. The things that look like total messes to others are logical when I look at them. My mother laughed as I read this one, recalling how many times I’d said “out of sight, out of mind.” Once something leaves my hand it is gone. When I mean gone, I mean that I’ll spend twenty minutes looking for on my desk in front of me.
“Also, perhaps due to their disorganization, they tend to lose many, many personal items: clothing, watches, pagers, books, lunches, and shoes.”
This will tie into the above, but I lost a textbook last semester for the entire semester only to find it under my bed where I’d left it when moving. After having spent many hours raiding my room and car looking frantically for it, I conceded that I must have left it in the classroom only for someone else to claim it. A few days ago I found twenty dollars in the pocket of some pants that had been washed. I know that one is probably too common, but it’s along those lines. The thing I am absolutely worst with is my guitar pick. Once I set one of those down it’s like I might has well have thrown it out of the window unless I place it in the strings of the guitar.
So yeah, I’m a dork with a learning disability. Hopefully you’ll still love me regardless of my handicap. :P
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| The Friday bullshit is unleashed. |
[02 Jul 2004|09:22am] |
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music |
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Deicide - Scars of the Crucifix |
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You kiddos are some lucky bitches, because there’s going to be a Friday entry after all. Praise the lard!
We had a test in Advertising today, which again ran all of twenty minutes. I made my way over to the happy computer lab, and the rest is history. I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it before, but every Friday is black concert tee day. Today’s shirt of choice is the KMFDM Boots tee, though I decided to crank it up a notch with the Tool wristband and detachable chinny whiskers. The test wasn’t especially hard, and I hope to have done well after having made a ninety two on the last one. My mother thinks I’m going to ace my summer classes, but that’s a good stretch of her imagination. She sent an additional card of encouragement today, in attempt to somehow cheese me into making good grades on my finals.
So yeah, I’m a class away from the weekend, and I already fear it. I know that they’re as exciting as I make them, but ultimately hate the knowledge that I’m going to sit around without much deviation for the next three days. Sunday is the fourth though, and I’ll be damned if I don’t throw a few black cats at others. If it means picking some up to toss at Josh across the room, so be it, just as long as we get to do something worth writing about. And as long as Monica doesn’t escape from aim again for the entire weekend I’ll remain stable.
I’ve been somewhat sickly the past two days, but not in the sense of a cold or anything. My ears have been stopped up on me, and I’ve had an upset stomach. Consequently I ran out of Poptarts two days ago, so they must have been the secret link that was bonding my health together. I’m not a big fan of skipping breakfast, though it would reduce my food expenses even more. Nah, fuck that. Where would I be without the sustenance that having Smores for breakfast affords?
My apologies for the length of the above paragraphs; it’s obvious that I’m bullshitting. I’ve been meaning to do this for a while, and since I’m reaching for content I’ll go ahead and use it as filler. Being the resident nerd, I’ve been known to make software recommendations from time to time. Here’s a mini review of Gaim, and why you should check it out. For starters:
“Gaim is a multi-protocol instant messaging client for Linux, BSD, MacOS X, and Windows. It is compatible with AIM (Oscar and TOC protocols), ICQ, MSN Messenger, Yahoo, IRC, Jabber, Gadu-Gadu, and Zephyr networks.”
Maybe you’re asking thyself why in hell you’d need that. My reasoning was simple; I upgraded to the latest version of AIM and tried a number of different solutions to get the ad removal and customization that I’d grown accustomed to. No matter how I tweaked the bastard, I managed to encounter some level of screwiness. I was recommended giving Gaim a try, but was turned off by it’s “let’s do everything” Trillian style approach. After a few days with Gaim, I’m fairly certain that I won’t be going back. It features a clean interface, tabbing, aliasing, and logging that actually works. The only downside is that custom fonts are a tad difficult to get working. http://gaim.sourceforge.net
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