Disasters and artists.

The numbers keep climbing.

I am an undemonstrative man. [Legally, I'm barely a man, having just turned 18 on the, um, 18th.] I however, moved by the recent disasters in the East. On these occasions, acts such as this snap into sharp focus. Clio Chang is also participating an auction, proceeds toward the Red Cross.

It really, really make me want to do something.

Several years ago, after the 9/11 attacks, several recording artists participated in benifit concerts. I was not a member of DA at the time-in fact, I was only dimly aware of it's existance-but I suppose there was a similar reaction. The scale, also, in much greater. Less than ten thousand died on the 11th. The current, rising death toll is over 70,000. There was also a difference in causes. A tragedy precipitated by nature always feels much more arbitrary that that brought about by human intellegence-or rather, evil. All the attacks destroyed was two skyscrapers, sereral planes, and a portion of the Pentagon. The floods have left behind farmland art property which will be unusable for month.

Nonetheless, this is not a time for contemplation, but a time for action. I urge you to donate wherever you can.

Merry Christmas.

Tidings of comfort, joy, and substance abuse¡

//a little less conversation·a little more action

Concerning parents.

And their wicked, theivsing ways. Gollum.

Of late, my parents have begun to criticize my lack of social skills. I will freely admit that I possess only the most basic skills when dealing with my elders. I can, however, make friends amnong my peers quite easily. That said, when my friends are not around, I usually have my head in a book. My brother, who used to work at COB looked up his friends there upon his return from college, and returned home criticizing me for not hailing anyone because I am always reading. But I like to read. I have, however, found Ali's name to be a grease to loosen stuck bueracracy in some cases, and when someone stares at me and asks my name, I usually supply it, with the addendum that I am Ali's little brother.

But I digress.

The most recent occurance came about around one when I decided to stay inside. Please note that I had spent most of yesterday afternoon outside, and the only place my mother was going today was to return aluminium pans to several locations. The one motivation I might have for going out was that one of the people the pans were being returned to may or may not have Halo 2. Even then, I would only experience minutes therof. Minutes, I say.

Screw it. I went anyway.

//people believe anything you tell 'em to

201204

There are points when a usually fun task becomes just another task, just another "to do". When this occurs, it is best to stop doing said thing to mine. I say this because I have become burned out on my eLife. It comprises mainly My DeviantArt account, my Gaia online account, and miscellaneous forums and webcomics I patronize. However, the fact remains that I barely touched the computer for the past two days, and my fingers still hurt after mere minutes of typing. I'm going to finish a Gaia commision, and that's it.

When I was younger, my family had no cable. We watched the local public access channel. Singular. Whenever we went to Solomon's, the local SuperStore, I used to sneak in after my mother and sister went in, watch as much cable as I safely could, then try to meet Mum and MJ at the cashier. I often came too late, or far too early. For some reason, when I recall these days, they are tinged with blue, like the scenes when everyone is in the real world.* Just like the world seems to be these days.

Childhood memories are impervious to cold.

I can recall running around in the dead of winter in shorts with ashy legs, my sister literally assault-lotioning me fom the front seat of the car, specifically because it bothered me. I am currently wearing a beanie. Inside. Everytime I venture outdors for even seconds, I emerge chanting "Cold. Cold." as some sort of talisman, to ward off the cold. *The air is once more tinged with blue, and I half expect Morpheus to emerge from some canaverous spider's web of machinery in a tettered shirt, wiping his hands on a rag and announcing that we need to get to broadcast depth. Which is silly. We lost our antenna ten klicks back running from that Sentinel. Our only hope now is to get to Zion before the Matrix finds us again.

According to Weather.com, the temperature is currently 66°F, but it feels like, um, 66°F. I'd talk more, but a Nasenex commercal about a bee with pollen allergies just came on, and I have to go laugh at it.

//there is one tree left in kyoto

Let's talk about LiveJournals.

I have one. That is not to say I actually use it, oh no. I keep it solely for the friendslist. No-one I have on there is actually an angsty teenager. If I wanted that, I'd look in the mirror. (*rimshot*) In fact I doubt any of them have any personal problems at all, with the exception of Yuki_Onna.* But she's a writer. It's in her job description, immediately preceding "wear large flowing dresses in in dark colours and expensive fabrics", following "live in a gothic/victorian/colonial-inspired manse", and two items below "drink heavily". I also have an artist/webcartoonist, another artist/webcartoonist, an artist/webcartoonist/film buff/activist, and a photographer with works of such skill that they will cause your jaw to hang open and you to stagger slightly to the left upon seeing them.

Several thousand were shocked recently when a LJer killed her mother. (Allegedly) Well, not so much "shocked" as "I told you so". The story rapidly circulated through messageboards, and there were even news stories. The strange part is that the story is real. The entries in her journal have been slowly disappearing, even the ones without pertinent evidence, like some eldritch mist or rumors about the next Harry Potter book.

This further corrobrates the story, since a girl matching the profile has been bought to court on a murder charge. It is reasonable to assume she gave her lawyer...or...someone...her password. In fact, in her last post, she stated that she would be "away for a while".

I digress.

A week or two ago, I decided to move from my longtime residence at Diaryland. I had initially joined Blogspot for the fake Mendacium blog. Then I abandoned that and went, "Well, I have an account, why not really use it?" And thus, the Pundit was born. And then the move. There are several areas in which Blogger kicks DL in the short n' curlies, knocks it into a cocked hat, runs it over with a steamroller, and pees on its grave. One is the interface. To add a DL entry, one must;
  1. Go to diaryland.com.

  2. Click Sign In

  3. Realize the caret isn't even in the Username box by default.

  4. Position the caret in the Username box.

  5. Enter username.

  6. Hit Tab.

  7. Enter Password.

  8. Hit Enter.

  9. Click on "Add an Entry".



Nine keystrokes. Nine long keystrokes. Blogger:


  1. Go to Blogger.com.

  2. Enter username.

  3. Hit Tab.

  4. Enter Password.

  5. Hit enter.

Click on the plus sign next to the appropriate blog.
Done. 5 strokes. DL takes three pages. Blogger takes two. The format is better too. Th e only place where DL could concievably have an edge over Blogger is in template simplicity. DL's templates involve simple HTML with a few special commands. Blogger templates are a frightening melange of comments, tables, and unfriendly special commands, and random capitals, with their key hidden somewhere in the fathomless pit known as Blogger Help. Men have gone in and ended up in psychiatric institutes, lying on their side in thin white cotton jackets with long sleeves, mumbling incoherently about "AdSense". I plan to take it on as soon as I have a stiff drink. Or three. Strictly medicinal, you understand. For my nerves.

*I do not think Ms. Valentine actually has personal problems. I just needed a joke to go there.
//like toy soldiers

I have one thing to say...

Frick yes.

In my worikings with Powerpoint at this COB lab* for my presentation on Minimalism on monday, I seem to have developed a new design style. Fittingly enough, it's uber-minmalist, and I could use it for webpages easily. In fact, I think 'll scare up some templates once I get home.

Happy happy, joy, joy.

*I came here specifically to use these computers. I even brought a floppy. Naturally, the PC I'm on doesn't have one. I'll have to upload the file to my website, and download it onto the computer I'm borrowing for the presentation.