Harvard said it, so it's true**I can't be held responsible for the way you might interpret or define the word truth. I'm not Harvard.
3.08.2008
Life Is A Game
Gamers are pattern-makers/breakers which is why we rule at life.
Harvard said it, so it's true*
*I can't be held responsible for the way you might interpret or define the word truth. I'm not Harvard.
Harvard said it, so it's true**I can't be held responsible for the way you might interpret or define the word truth. I'm not Harvard.
3.07.2008
Who Is Ms Roq?
On the thread of "sometimes it takes a while"...
I'd like to give my much belated respect to Ms Roq, especially her verse on Murder Ink (2001).
[*sigh* no pic of the mysterious ms roq available...not willing or not suitable for sexpot status? not that it matters, check]
Lyrics from...
[Ms. Roq]
Peeped all the stash drop and exchange of the dough
Lurkin through the turf, think how I'ma just work
Give em chase to the crib and yo he properly laced
Stepped out the car, put my steel, to the side of his face
Murder - this the fuckin Case, rob this nigga and shake
the fuckin spot cause in a few it's gon' be crawlin with cops!
Who's the bad bitch now, you crept on, paid the piper
Who'da thought a sexy bitch could be a murderous sniper
Detrimental to your health, shoulda learned yo' lesson
But it's too late nigga bye-bye, better count yo' blessings
I been watchin you watchin me, yeah you ballin
Was, nigga now you finger fucked and steady fallin
A thug wit no love, but bitch niggaz die fast
Thug niggaz die young - oh what you thought you would last?
Blast two shots to the dome, slide back to the pad
and jack my nigga off, til his dick get soft
Resume the wifey boo shit, cause yo my man don't know
that his bitch is straight ill, servin ass with fo'fo' {*KABOOM*}
I'm a motherfuckin MURDERAHHH
I'd like to give my much belated respect to Ms Roq, especially her verse on Murder Ink (2001).
[*sigh* no pic of the mysterious ms roq available...not willing or not suitable for sexpot status? not that it matters, check]
Lyrics from...
[Ms. Roq]
Peeped all the stash drop and exchange of the dough
Lurkin through the turf, think how I'ma just work
Give em chase to the crib and yo he properly laced
Stepped out the car, put my steel, to the side of his face
Murder - this the fuckin Case, rob this nigga and shake
the fuckin spot cause in a few it's gon' be crawlin with cops!
Who's the bad bitch now, you crept on, paid the piper
Who'da thought a sexy bitch could be a murderous sniper
Detrimental to your health, shoulda learned yo' lesson
But it's too late nigga bye-bye, better count yo' blessings
I been watchin you watchin me, yeah you ballin
Was, nigga now you finger fucked and steady fallin
A thug wit no love, but bitch niggaz die fast
Thug niggaz die young - oh what you thought you would last?
Blast two shots to the dome, slide back to the pad
and jack my nigga off, til his dick get soft
Resume the wifey boo shit, cause yo my man don't know
that his bitch is straight ill, servin ass with fo'fo' {*KABOOM*}
I'm a motherfuckin MURDERAHHH
3.05.2008
Life After the Death
Getting to know my new computer is like training a look-alike dog. I never remember how to set the finder window so that it always appears as a list instead of a bunch of huge, doofy icons. We'll get there, it just takes a minute.
And two of the joyful experiences of being human, and a woman:
1. Getting told exactly what you need to hear but don't want to see.
2. Conversations in groups of women that involve a lot of dialogue like this: "...and then this motherfucker..."
And two of the joyful experiences of being human, and a woman:
1. Getting told exactly what you need to hear but don't want to see.
2. Conversations in groups of women that involve a lot of dialogue like this: "...and then this motherfucker..."
The (Big) Apple
The new hard drive has arrived, profiles restored, online data downloaded, and the new home - a 500 Gb Western Digital external drive - has been shipped.
Equilibrium has been reestablished.
Soon I'll be in New York for a bit. It's been a while since my last visit, and I can't wait to be back in the midst of all that trash and humanity.
Midwesterners think of New York as a mean city, with rude, angry, impatient inhabitants who would just as easily knock you on your feet as say hello. But seriously, if New Yorkers will never do anything, it's say hello to someone they don't know...unless they think it's the easiest, low-cost way to get out of enraging a street talker.
(a street talker - not to be confused with street walker - is a crazy homeless person who babbles or yells incessantly in public spaces, and who might occasionally assault an unwary passerby who looks, perhaps, like someone from another universe who did something terrible to them in an alternate past)
New York is honest.
That's what happens when the traditional barriers of society no longer apply. When I'm heading back to Gotham, I have to get real honest with myself. It's a truth serum.
There's a nice long list of people that have expressed the desire to see me: friends, exes, etc.
And there's a short list of one person that has not. And he's the one I want to see.
Honestly?
I initiated our relationship, and I've been the one who actively pursues it. I am highly expressive with my feelings - I call, I send gifts, I make vacation plans, I pay for dinner. I think about him a lot. I miss him. I even feel like I need him.
[This from the woman that needs no one...that is always the first to drop relationships that don't satisfy...who says no to the bullshit and drama that comes from indecision, ambiguity, ambivalence... A fool for love!]
And I left. I did it, ok! I did. When I was a young thing I thought that when the time came I would sacrifice anything, everything for love. But when the time came, I left. I gave up the chance to be with this man who makes me feel more my self than I do alone.
Fully confronting the consequences of that choice didn't hit me until I arrived here, alone, feeling that it could not be replaced by enthusiasm for my career.
When I was about 14, I had an intense dream that has stuck with me since. I don't remember what happened in the dream, but that's not important. What mattered then, and what matters now, is that I woke up knowing, completely convinced that I would choose to be alone forever.
For what? For the sake of my independence. For the indulgence of my fears. For ever.
Will I always make that choice?
Equilibrium has been reestablished.
Soon I'll be in New York for a bit. It's been a while since my last visit, and I can't wait to be back in the midst of all that trash and humanity.
Midwesterners think of New York as a mean city, with rude, angry, impatient inhabitants who would just as easily knock you on your feet as say hello. But seriously, if New Yorkers will never do anything, it's say hello to someone they don't know...unless they think it's the easiest, low-cost way to get out of enraging a street talker.(a street talker - not to be confused with street walker - is a crazy homeless person who babbles or yells incessantly in public spaces, and who might occasionally assault an unwary passerby who looks, perhaps, like someone from another universe who did something terrible to them in an alternate past)
New York is honest.That's what happens when the traditional barriers of society no longer apply. When I'm heading back to Gotham, I have to get real honest with myself. It's a truth serum.
There's a nice long list of people that have expressed the desire to see me: friends, exes, etc.
And there's a short list of one person that has not. And he's the one I want to see.
Honestly?
I initiated our relationship, and I've been the one who actively pursues it. I am highly expressive with my feelings - I call, I send gifts, I make vacation plans, I pay for dinner. I think about him a lot. I miss him. I even feel like I need him.
[This from the woman that needs no one...that is always the first to drop relationships that don't satisfy...who says no to the bullshit and drama that comes from indecision, ambiguity, ambivalence... A fool for love!]
And I left. I did it, ok! I did. When I was a young thing I thought that when the time came I would sacrifice anything, everything for love. But when the time came, I left. I gave up the chance to be with this man who makes me feel more my self than I do alone.
Fully confronting the consequences of that choice didn't hit me until I arrived here, alone, feeling that it could not be replaced by enthusiasm for my career.
When I was about 14, I had an intense dream that has stuck with me since. I don't remember what happened in the dream, but that's not important. What mattered then, and what matters now, is that I woke up knowing, completely convinced that I would choose to be alone forever.
For what? For the sake of my independence. For the indulgence of my fears. For ever.
Will I always make that choice?
3.04.2008
Death Is A Blue-Grey Infinity
My hard drive died yesterday.
Much like the hilarity I derived from my own suffering when accused of gmail chat banality yesterday, I thoroughly enjoyed both the excruciating pain of my loss and the simultaneous comfort in the fact that only digital data had been lost.
My laptop, fresh and new though it was, suffered not.
My thesis, only a green apple in my eye, survived in its entirety.
I still have phone numbers, calendar appointments and e-tickets stored safely in digital and neural ethereae.
Back up plan? Ha!
If, at no point in your life do you have the opportunity to say "Shit happened!", you have lost your freedom. So, when shit happens, I take it as the blessing (and bullet dodge) that it is.
I still have all my ideas.
3.03.2008
A Real Stroke of Genius
So, this morning I was asked, indirectly, to be more authentic in my presentation of myself to the virtual world of gmail chat.
Rather than use other people's ideas, why not display more of my own?
Excellent question. In answer to that, I have three things to say:
1. My profile on gmail chat is one of those things that I maintain more for other people's entertainment than my own. Everyone else on my list seems to have things they want me to know about, and that's the way they choose to broadcast it. In response, I often post references to things that have come across my path in the same transient way. I will never remember these things, so investing a lot of identity and authenticity into constructing one for myself is totally unimportant and irrelevant.
2. My thoughts are not easily encapsulated in small spaces or pithy phrases.
3. Custom status messages are not a replacement for conversation. They are not an accurate way to represent how a human feels, thinks or speaks. If you want to know what's on my mind, ask me.
Meanwhile, in my own order of priority in the universe...
I've got a couple things on my mind that I am trying to find a cohesive way to address.
I did not get the IRTS Summer Fellowship after the final round of interviews, so instead of having an all-expense-paid trip to NY to conduct research on the internal organization of major media companies, I have to find something else to do.
I've accidentally discovered a Research Question, which is immensely inconvenient because I thought I had figured out a way to graduate without having to actually write a thesis! But now I really want to know whether females respond to the same emotional cues in games that men do. Or, probably better stated: What gameplay triggers emotions in women? How does this compare to the gameplay that generates emotions in men? Are we responding to the same things they are? If so, how can we make games that are fun for all genders? Or, how can we make games that serve the MASSIVE market of women gamers (without using the color pink to distinguish them)?
I just read my University's Intellectual Property Policy. Egads! Do these people think they're running an education of higher learning, or a communist work camp? The funny thing is, if the University is going to lay claim (75% to be exact) to the fruits of their students' labors, then shouldn't EVERYONE be taxed from the moment they graduate?
Rather than use other people's ideas, why not display more of my own?
Excellent question. In answer to that, I have three things to say:
1. My profile on gmail chat is one of those things that I maintain more for other people's entertainment than my own. Everyone else on my list seems to have things they want me to know about, and that's the way they choose to broadcast it. In response, I often post references to things that have come across my path in the same transient way. I will never remember these things, so investing a lot of identity and authenticity into constructing one for myself is totally unimportant and irrelevant.
2. My thoughts are not easily encapsulated in small spaces or pithy phrases.
3. Custom status messages are not a replacement for conversation. They are not an accurate way to represent how a human feels, thinks or speaks. If you want to know what's on my mind, ask me.
Meanwhile, in my own order of priority in the universe...
I've got a couple things on my mind that I am trying to find a cohesive way to address.
I did not get the IRTS Summer Fellowship after the final round of interviews, so instead of having an all-expense-paid trip to NY to conduct research on the internal organization of major media companies, I have to find something else to do.
I've accidentally discovered a Research Question, which is immensely inconvenient because I thought I had figured out a way to graduate without having to actually write a thesis! But now I really want to know whether females respond to the same emotional cues in games that men do. Or, probably better stated: What gameplay triggers emotions in women? How does this compare to the gameplay that generates emotions in men? Are we responding to the same things they are? If so, how can we make games that are fun for all genders? Or, how can we make games that serve the MASSIVE market of women gamers (without using the color pink to distinguish them)?
I just read my University's Intellectual Property Policy. Egads! Do these people think they're running an education of higher learning, or a communist work camp? The funny thing is, if the University is going to lay claim (75% to be exact) to the fruits of their students' labors, then shouldn't EVERYONE be taxed from the moment they graduate?
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