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I'm out of secondlife finally. [30 Jun 2012|06:04am]
[14:52] Seasom: trixie wound up being a good lead, came out to just under 140 usd per sim
[14:53] JYD: better than nothing
[14:53] Seasom: i bought them six years ago so this is basically 1800 of unexpected income
[14:53] Seasom: gonna buy hookers and coke
[14:53] Seasom: like five of each
[14:53] JYD: five of each?
[14:53] Seasom: yeah, five hookers, and five cokes.
[14:54] Seasom: give each hooker a coke and make them to drink it really fast, then i suddenly tickle them so it comes out their noses
[14:54] JYD: wtf?
[14:54] Seasom: ...i have weird fetishes <_<;;;; [14:54] JYD: lol
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Music String Theory [27 Apr 2012|08:08am]
I had a dream that I was in space, and i was formless, and time and distance had no meaning, i could arbitrarily move across the entire galaxy in seconds, and watch a million years pass in a blink. I was looking at the stars and how they flared up and pulsated and burned out and i realized that every star was actually a single musical note, that the twinkling was the wavering of the sustain as it gradually went flat.

at that point i felt that string theory, the theory that all matter in the universe is made up of tightly woven strings, not balls, was wrong, and that all matter in the universe was actually made up of tightly woven sound waves, and that a star could be seen as a note but was actually a frantic symphony of sound

i woke up chewing on my ukulele and tangled up in computer wires with an intense craving for eggs. (im not sure how the eggs fit in, but i fucking love eggs)
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further evidence my mind is totally gone [14 Apr 2012|09:58pm]
i was just sitting on my bed playing on my iPad when it occurred to me i had left my ipad in the kitchen so i went to the kitchen to look for it

god dammit.
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i bought a ukaleli [31 Mar 2012|11:09am]
now i just need to learn how to spell ukulaelie

also how to play one


(before you ask "why" if you think a minute it should be obvious, my house is too small for a harp and its hard to climb a tree with a guitar)
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Writer's Block: Alabama, Alaska, Arizona? [30 Mar 2012|12:45pm]
If you had to be named after one of the 50 states, which would it be?

maybe Mississippi, that seems like it'd have a fun signiature
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[29 Mar 2012|09:44pm]
i bought a remote control helicopter. this is something ive badly wanted since i was like four years old but they've always been too big or too expensive or too fragile or there's been no good place to fly them.

i had pretty much forgotten about them until it came up yesterday in a conversation with my coworker, and he was like "just go buy one and be done with it" so i did. i'm going to paint it red and name it rosebud

i have never in my life been this happy with a purchase ever.
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Always pick the broken wagon [21 Mar 2012|10:28am]
Maybe its the brain damage but I keep finding lines out of this stupid game hillarious.

Stella: We have to find a way to fix the magic pot, and fast, but I don't know the first thing about pot repair... maybe one of these books will help...
Arche: Here's one titled "Magic Pot Repair for Beginners, Get Started in 5 Minutes!", do you think it would be helpful?
Stella: Given that the title is literally what we need, yes, it might just be helpful.

Konnie: My parents got in a fight last night, and theyre both magic users so before you know it the whole house was full of magic and all I could do was cast shield and hide under my bed, hee hee...
Stella: Your family is messed up.

Stella is a character has the kind of personality that most people love to hate but that I tend to be a sucker for... she's a snobby mean brat that talks down to everyone.  She puts on an air of superiority to create the illusion that its by her own choice that she doesn't have any friends, and constantly spouts off knowledge in a desperate attempt to earn praise.  Nobody really likes her, nobody praises her, nobody really even talks to her.

The reality however is that she's in a psychological state of panic and is really needy and terrified of anyone finding out.  She's borderline abusive to the main character, constantly insulting and pushing her down (as she does to everyone), but upon suggesting that you consider her a friend she blushes and gets excited and mumbles a few half-hearted insults and spends the rest of the game following you around acting as if she doesn't have a choice in the matter.

The point of this "what is turning into a book report about a video game character in a game nobody's heard of" is a bit of introspection about the kinds of people I tend to be drawn toward.  What is that all about?  Why do I pick the weak kids to be on my team first?  Why is it that I find myself drawn to abusive basket cases when there's positive friendly people right next to them?  What is it about me that I'm always drawn to whatever needs the most fixing?

Ive had people tell me "it's because you think if you fix someone they'll be loyal to you forever" or "it's because you have low self esteem and dont think you deserve anything good", but I'm not sure if either of those are correct.  One of my friend believes its because I have a daddy complex and I need girls who are going to be utterly dependent and clingy to me exclusively while hating everyone else which i suppose is probably accurate but on an intellectual level I'm fine with someone who has their shit squared away and who just enjoys my company, I just don't tend to be attracted to those kinds of people and when I'm around them their lack of needing me tends to inevitably lead me to wandering off.

This is somewhat related: I have a toolbox in my desk at work and I spend my downtime running around fixing EVERYTHING.  Maybe this is just an aspect of my personality i should embrace and go build schools in Africa or something.
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[20 Mar 2012|10:45am]
Chiffon: It warms me all the way to my... inside.. thingy... bits....
Stella: You have the most bizarre gaps in your vocabulary
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[19 Mar 2012|03:55pm]
"I'm a novice fortune teller, I can see into the future, although not very far into the future yet. Lets see, you're worried about money! no? hmmm, love? oh, i know! shoulder pain! err... i guess just saying whatever comes to mind isn't how this works."
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[19 Mar 2012|01:49pm]
Im a good friend. Heres a typical conversation with my elderly friend Ryo:

Ryozu: So yeah, 4 days, 10 hours a day last week, gripping and flippin 15 pound boxes with one hand
sly~<3: whew, its a good thing you dont have arthritis
Ryozu: only a temp job anyway
sly~<3: any job where you're hired is inevitably temporary
Ryozu: Temporary as in explicitly two weeks long
sly~<3: thats longer than a lot of your prior jobs.. wonder if you'll last
Ryozu: I won't, I think this is the part where I'm supposed to be all like "I won't let some boxes defeat me! I'm stronger than that!"
sly~<3: if your life was like that kind of anime thered be a lot more girls kicking around and your hair would be better.
Ryozu: but yeah, I'm not strong enough for this shit mentally OR physically
sly~<3: what is it that youre both mentally and physically strong enough for? professional cake eater?
Ryozu: I don't know. Stockin shelves at Walmart wasn't nearly this tiresome or hard
sly~<3: sometimes when i'm tickling 5 year olds at work my hands cramp up.
Ryozu: I hate you sometimes
sly~<3: should be an always thing~<3

He should be grateful for my guidance. >:O
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I made a doll out of 7 tshirts [20 Feb 2012|08:27pm]
They didnt fit me because i stopped being fat.


Not stuffed yet

I redid my headphone covers with the same fabric, so they match :3

I actually am really proud of the craftsmanship. The head is a single piece that wraps around the arms, which is then inserted into the torso and attached. This allows me to stuff the arms/shoulders really tight while keeping the head a little less dense and the body fairly loose, so it's not just a giant gingerbread man cutout. Also I didn't stuff it with cotton but with shredded tshirts from what I had left so its H-E-A-V-Y.
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Dumb Movie Stars [20 Feb 2012|09:07am]
Why does it shock and fascinate us when movie stars turn out to be complete idiots? Sure they play these characters in movies that say deep or intelligent lines that we connect with, but what are their qualifications to do so? They have good looks, good voices, and are good at faking emotions.

As far as entertainment goes, with a musician you at least have a chance theyve written their own words or music, but actors dont write their lines. With a stage actor they have to memorize all their lines and know who they speak before and after, but actors dont memorize their lines. With a dancer they have to learn a huge routine and put on a leotard, but actors have people telling them precisely where to stand and when to stand there and dressing them.

Actors just have to learn and deliver one line at a time while looking good. There's more brain work involved in working at McDonalds. Sure there are a couple who are well spoken, and a couple who got into acting for being incredibly charismatic or phenomenal stage performers, and the networking required can be difficult, but quit being surprised when you find out the pretty boy/girl is a complete and total moron.
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The Ninjaest Gloves Ever. [19 Feb 2012|08:02pm]
Look at my gloves.

Check that fine needlework

Turn them inside out and see the hidden secrets

Unlocks my front door and bad guys skulls.

After a month of dissecting (and ruining) transit cards and cutting holes in these gloves I have them how I want them. The grey bit holds a slightly modified hard plastic novelty transit card (which Ive never seen ANYONE have or use and they only sell at the head transit office in the dead center of Shanghai). It can be fairly simply popped out by squeezing the sides. Its amped up a bit so it reads from about 4 inches away instead of needing 1-2 seconds of direct contact like the standard cards you get at the subway stations (I trigger the meters accidentally if i stand too close and they yell YOU ALREADY SWIPED YOUR CARD IDIOT at me in Chinese). The left hand is a retractable door key built out of the carry strap from a prior bag sewed together and melted into a little guidance track.

It took a month of mounting and ripping them back apart to get both things perfectly situated on my hands so i can't feel them at all. Added bonus, it trips people out when i wave my open hand in front of the card readers and they beep.
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[15 Feb 2012|12:21pm]
Who am i?

I feel like a totally different person than I was just a mere 3 years ago, which is the story of my life.

I finally understand that humans are NOT a perfect creation, but that we are a prototype, and that it is NOT written anywhere that the world is supposed to be perfect. We are a work in progress, not a final product, and we never will be. Only a complete fool walks into a laboratory, picks up a half finished experiment, and complains it doesn't work properly, so we at least owe the same courtesy to ourselves.

For the first time in my life I can look at everything and say that I'm a happy person. I get it. I know what I want, I know what I like, and I'm not ashamed of it (though I'm not necessarily willing to share it). I understand that I'm a minority in this world and while I realize nobody is ever going to view me as fitting in, I'm starting to see the part that I play and how I do fit in.

A spider web is made of strands and meant to catch flies, but Not every strand in a spider web is meant to catch flies. Of the millions of strands, 99.9% are a tightly woven to trap, but there are a scant few lonely strands sticking out that attach the web to the tree or the wall. Standing in the middle of the web with limited vision these strands seem like a waste of material, forming a part of the trap thats full of gaping holes and completely incapable of catching bugs.

I think my purpose is the same. I believe I'm an essential part of the bug catching process, but I'm not meant to actually catch any bugs myself. If and when I figure out precisely what my purpose is I'll let everyone know.
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[15 Feb 2012|07:09am]
oh my god Lady Gaga is dead!
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Suicide February [15 Feb 2012|06:44am]
[ mood | Sentimental Introspection ]

Though its quite obvious that having damn near made it to 30 I'm not about to kill myself any time soon (my curiosity having gotten the better of me every time in the past) it's always been around this time of the year that I feel the top half of my stomach gripped by agony and nausea.

Being someone who simultaneously lacks regret yet is swamped with sentimental introspection, it's always February that I find myself reflecting on the past, feeling tangents of past events and emotions tying to the present.

While I'm often made fun of for my notably poor memory, I'm surprised at some of the bizarre details I'm able to recall. At current I'm going through an old music folder moving songs to my iPod and I'm surprised at some of the memories I have attached to these songs; listening to a song I haven't heard in 2-3 years I am able to remember exactly where I was the last time I listened to each of these hundreds of songs, to the point where one in particular invoked a very detailed memory of a particular tree that I walked past every day on my way to work and happened to be walking past last time I heard the song.

The truly amazing thing is that while there wasn't really a particular time in the last 3 years Ive been in China that I felt depressed (on the contrary I've been quite happy since I got here having had my daily "pay attention to Steve" dose infinitely increased) whenever I feel myself gripped with feelings of nostalgia it almost always puts me into a state of low energy.

I haven't felt true feelings of depression in years, at least not like I used to get in the past. In fact it's been almost 6 years since I had a serious break down and cried my eyes out, and if I reach as far back as my teenage years I used to cry myself to sleep pretty much every day. The irony is that while at this current point my life is essentially at an all time high (I'm physically in the best shape of my life, I'm surrounded in adults and kids who smother me in attention, I'm being given virtually complete liberty at work as the absolute senior employee at both of the centers I travel between, I've spent 3 years in abstinence sorting out my impulses, I'm gradually approaching bilingual...ity...), my mood still manages to find a low point every February, and lacking current causes for depression, I'm feeling depression NOT tied to the loss of GOOD times as one would normally expect, but reminiscing on BAD times that are long behind me. Its akin to digging through mud just to feel the dirt on your hands.

I guess its a blessing that looking back on my life there is quite literally NOTHING that I miss. There is no point in my recollection where I've ever been happy (save for digging back to when I was about 5 years old climbing in trees in the back yard). Despite being wound up and hyper and loud for most of my life, I've never had a point where I could sit down and hold something up and say "This is what I'm happy about". Quite oddly though this doesn't bother me at all. I would much rather be able to say "I've left nothing of value behind" than "My best times have already passed".

This is only tangentially related (can I use "tangent" twice in the same rant without violating a literary rule?) but for the first time in my life I'm folding my clothes and my bedroom is relatively clean.

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[30 Nov 2011|11:08am]
I downloaded a song called "Sly" because it bears a nickname I've used frequently since 2001. I didn't expect to like it, and upon first listening I don't, but the words hit me really hard:

Wondering, leaving the sea behind
To my home which everybody owns

I'm younger than I used to be
I feel like the world is my home at last
I know everyone that I meet

I often doubt that the meaning I derive from a song is the intended message of the author, but this song very precisely describes the last 4 years of my life... being lonely and full of anger and moving out here, losing 70 pounds, and being able to run and climb better than I could when I was 16 (especially the "home which everybody owns" bit when you consider I live in China)
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[28 Nov 2011|08:53pm]
"Upon an evil winter's heart, the heavy hand of regret infrequently alights. The malevolent path is one trod without the cumbersome shackles of sentimental introspection." Dr. Lloyd Wexler
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[13 Nov 2011|09:51pm]
i hAveN't bEen KiDNaPPeD, sO DoN'T cOme LOoKiNg FoR HiM.
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Understanding Goodnight Moon [12 Nov 2011|09:16pm]
Goodnight Room. Goodnight Moon. Goodnight cow jumping over the moon.

The work of Margaret Wise Brown and Clement Hurd is a widely circulated American bedtime story. Not everyone specifically loves the book, but I've never heard someone call it a "bad" book or say they disliked it.

So on to me trying to introduce it to a culture that's never heard of it, and up against a wall with it consistently being called "pointless", "bad", or even "stupid". Living in Shanghai, I'm exposed to a society that considers itself fashionable, modern, and creative, and that's pushing to learn English and seeking out English media with a sort of franticness that to me harkens to the 80s Japanese obsession.

I've introduced adults and children to a variety of children's books and most of the stories I remember loving and have read to children in the US have also been well received here, with Goodnight Moon being the exception; nobody likes it. Kids don't like it, and adults don't get it. "There aren't any characters", "There's no story", "Nothing happens", "It's boring", "It's just an invisible narrator describing an arbitrary room". The art is completely lost, up to the point where the "Goodnight Nobody" page invokes the response "They didn't even draw anything for this page, it's just blank". It reads like a "learning English" book, "This is a pencil. It is on a desk. The desk is in the classroom", except that it depicts impossible or bizarre scenarios using somewhat archaic terminology which cripples the one factor that the local audience here could possibly credit it with: learning English.

Unwilling to simply blame the audience for not understanding the work, I'm left trying to explain the book, a task I find quite difficult to do. What kind of book is this? Is this poetry? Is it art? Is it supposed to represent the sort of hallucinatory surreal nature of dreams?

What *IS* Goodnight Moon? Tell me what you think!
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