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May. 11th, 2006 @ 01:56 pm Geek Star Child
A few days ago, I finished the semester at York. I was also accepted as a full-time student, which I have not been since I left Texas and dropped the Computer Science Engineering major. Tuesday night, I drove four hours and arrived in Johnstown, where I am taking a vacation and unwinding.

The first thing my friend did was take me to the local comic store. Great selection, jack-ass owners. Still, I blew fourty-five dollars on the 2nd Ed. ADnD Player's Handbook (I had only the first edition ADnD) and the ADnD Greyhawk Adventures book.

It's strange, though. I've been reading through Greyhawk and familiarizing myself with the setting again, and finishing up The Gods Themselves by Asimov. I've begun to wear my robe again, and shun sunlight.

I feel like I am reverting to a proto-geek state, so that I might re-evolve into something better.

I got bored and went to Gamestop, got a used copy of X-Wing v. TIE Fighter...and my God, it's full of stars...
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May. 1st, 2006 @ 04:24 pm War on Windows
I am fed up with it. Again. Windows.

The wizards, the pop-up boxes, the lack of logs, the impotent add-on command line prompt formerly known as MS_DOS. The lack of logs, the incomplete and incoherent error messages that make trouble shooting impossible. The incompatibility with it's own hard-ware and soft-ware, the lack of control...

Windows dies today. Three distributions of Linux are being downloaded as we speak, and I will install them until I find the right one. Knoppix will help me get through the hard time, and I will search until I find the best one. In a misguided attempt to save itself, Windows has tried to stop me from backing up my data. It will lose the war. It will die. But this will only be the beginning.

I have a Master Plan.

If I need to, I'll join the Army or the Marines. They give you a signing bonus, you know. I'll use that bonus, I'll go and buy a top of the line Mac. Mac's have compatibility, they're friendly. And they're UNIX based. Command line prompts, control, error and server logs, it's all beautiful. I'll go out, and I'll buy a Mac with the signing bonus, and I'll join the armed forces.

I might die, certainly. Other there in the desert I might get shot. I might go AWOL and get killed for that, too. But either way, I won't have to use Windows ever again. I'll be a hero, a martyr against Windows. The first victim will have emerged against them and their evil giant. War will be declared. And it'll all have started with me.

May-be I'd go AWOL and flee to Sweden, where I have citizenship. I don't speak Swedish, and most of them don't speak English very well. They'd try and chat me up, being the friendly little people that they are, and I'd happily respond, "I don't speak French." And they would walk away, confused and vaguely offended.

I'd become an Windows Exorcist in Sweden. I'd install Linux on their computers when they weren't looking, and set the language packages to Swedish. They'd try to thank me, but I wouldn't understand them. But I'd still see it in their eyes.

I'd become the leader of the Jihad against Microsoft Windows, and my martyrdom or my leading the way would guarantee me a seat in Heaven at the right hand of Tux.

Heaven's beautiful, you know. Clean command-prompt, with forty-two comprehensive userdocs waiting there for me. Streams made of pure code would roll down the streams, and I could tinker with the Kernel that ran Heaven anytime I wanted to.

My followers back on Earth would finally win the Jihad against Microsoft, having named themselves the Avengers of Tux. They would celebrate in a worldwide open-source orgy, source code being freely exchanged without the need for prophylactic firewalls or EULAs beyond GNU.

The prophecy has been delivered. The Jihad starts tonight.
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May. 1st, 2006 @ 02:13 pm Google Hacker
You have to love it when Google burns someone.

H@x0R G00g13.
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Apr. 4th, 2006 @ 12:28 pm (no subject)
Before I sit down to write something, when it first comes to me, the words and the idea consume me. I become obsessed with them. They grow and fill my mind until I can think of nothing else, each word becoming so large that I can barely contain it or comprehend it until the pen touches the paper. Then there is a false calm and stillness, the pressure seems to leave as the words leave me and enter the world.

My pen leaves the paper, and that sense of calm is shattered. I look over the words, I re-read them and I hate them. My hatred spreads until I am consumed by it, and all I want to do is destroy the words, and any sign to the world that they ever existed.

And sometimes I do. At times, I love the words and cannot bring myself to destroy them, yet hate them I cannot stand to look at them. At these times, I secret them away, and they disappear.

On my good days, however, after destroying them, I breath life into them again. The pressure to destroy and create satisfied, I am able to give being to the words again, and they flow steadily and form beautifully. On my good days.
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Mar. 21st, 2006 @ 11:57 am Causes of Violence
I promised a copy of the essay for Peace and Conflict on the Causes of Violence and the solutions to it.  Cut for length, here it is.  Enjoy, and feel free to leave comments.

Click here to read the essay )
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Mar. 20th, 2006 @ 09:20 am (no subject)
Current Music: Johnny Cash at San Quentin
This past week has been one of the stranger ones. Wednesday night/Thursday morning I drove my parents to the airport for their trip to Panama. I got back home, walked the dogs, and sat down to rest for a few minutes before doing some banking and going to class. Five hours later, I wake up to about five worried voice mails and e-mails, having completely missed my class and barely making it to the post office in time.

I spent the next bit of time typing up my essay on Just War theory and the Causes of Violence/Creation of Peace. I think it turned out wonderfully by the way, and might post it here later in case anyone wants to read it.

Friday I had almost no muscle control from the moment I woke up. Walking anywhere I had to have my hand on a railing or against the wall, else I would stumble and collapse on the ground. No idea why as of yet, though I recovered later that night.

Saturday, in addition to Alan, my old room-mate coming down to visit, I saw V for Vendetta for the second time. Later that night I got violently sick and was throwing up everywhere. The medicine I took knocked me out until about 4:30 the next morning. Waking up, I was convinced it was four in the afternoon and I still had time to pick up John and hang out with my friends. Apparently I vomitted so violently I travelled back in time.


It was also a very productive week. I've been doing a good bit of writing, although very little on the subjects that I want to write about. The new RPG system still isn't ready, for various reasons. In addition to this, Everquest has double experience this weekend, giving me and my friends more excuse to be unproductive.

A few minutes left before class starts, suppose I'll use it have a chat with my Uncle Johnny.

Also, welcome new reader [info]practicallyfame! Glad to have you aboard.
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Mar. 13th, 2006 @ 01:57 pm Angry Young Man
Current Mood: angry
My father asked me why I'm always so angry, why I generally hate people that I know and meet, and why I have condemned the majority of the world without meeting them. Here is a basic transcript of the discussion, supplemented by citations and with dates added.

"I hate most people because they are liars and hypocrites who are in denial about themselves and the world. I hate them because they live in a highly selective reality, one which they refuse to acknowledge even exists. There is nothing wrong with a selective reality, in day to day life I live in one myself - without it the world becomes too much to bear while doing the laundry or eating dinner or talking to your friends. The flaw, the terrible mistake, is in refusing to acknowledge that this false reality exists, in refusing to even step out of it for a moment.

"The people of the United States in particular, since they are who I largely deal with, are guilty of these things. We talk about the crimes of other countries like they only happen there. We went to war because we believed Iraq had weapons of mass destruction, because on several occasions Iraq had refused to allow UN inspectors access to certain buildings. The United States, in the years of build-up to the war with Iraq, has done the same thing. It has denied UN inspectors, on at least two separate occasions, access to areas inside the United States because they were 'national security centers.' Since then, in more recent memory, we have denied UN Inspectors access to Guantanamo Bay.

"The cry goes out 'But they ignored other UN declarations!' The UN has voted to End the US Embargo on Cuba by a wide majority. They have done this five times, and five times we have not listened.

"We complain because the Iraq government had enough weapons of mass destruction to destroy the world several times over. The United States has enough nuclear weapons to destroy the world several hundreds of times over, and most likely leave it unlivable for complex organisms for a thousand years, not because of radiation, but because the destruction will be so complete.

"People ignore this fact, all of these facts, and remain blissfully behind a veil of 'Invincible Ignorance'.

"Ask people who the last US Citizen to win the Nobel Peace prize was, and get a befuddled response. The answer is Jody Williams for her campaign against the use of land mines. Ask them, however, who the won the 2004 edition of American Idol, you will universally be told that it was Fantasia Barrino.

"You must see these things, look at them, acknowledge them! Make them a part of your life, even if you push them aside at times so you can function. But how can you not go home at night, and wail and grind and gnash your teeth in anger and frustration? Denial and ignorance makes you complicit, you are not innocent. There are no innocents. Not any more. We are all involved, each of us. We are all liable.

"I am told that we live in a time of unprecedented peace and that war is on the decline. We are, however, in an extremely violent age. The United States is in a war, and discussing another. We are occupying two countries. In the Congo, a thousand people die daily. Peace? Stability? Show me.

"We want to spread freedom. That is why we are in Iraq, right now, isn't it? That is why we have given them a brand new government, with free elections and all the glorious aspects of a democracy. (We, by the way, live in a Republic, though you will rarely hear this acknowledged.) However, as President Bush said, free elections cannot be held under foreign military occupation.

"Our enemies in the Middle East often surround themselves with civilians, hoping that we will not attack them and kill innocents. We often do anyway. How can we claim to be noble, to be fighting the good fight, when we do not even hold ourselves up to the standards that our reviled enemies hold us to? 'But they attack innocents!' as the generals say. That is true. The bad guys attack the innocents."

"Alright, but assuming all of that is true-"

"It is."

"Allowing that all of that is true, there are still governments and countries out there that are far worse than the United States."

"I hear that a lot. All the time, in fact. It may well be the most common response to criticism against the United States government. Compare us to the worst, and we are among the greatest. Let's do the opposite. Compare ourselves to the best. To the ideal. To Utopia. How do we stand up, then? As liars and hypocrites, who have not even climbed out of the muck before we turn on others and attack them for their failings. We save lives by killing soldiers and innocents. We create security by blowing up buildings and stirring up turmoil. We create stability by removing governments and putting in our own.

"The United States, since 1950, has supported every right-wing dictatorship in the world, in one way or another. We have trained them, supplied them, and encouraged them. Years later, we have on occasion, attacked them and replaced them.

"In our home country, the constructionists have it right. We have no right to privacy. I believe we should have one, I believe that it is necessary for a free and secure country. I also believe that it is a very different from the right against search and seizure. These rights must be democratically put into our Constitution. If they were, the debate would not exist. If the right to privacy concretely existed, there would be no illegal wiretaps.

"If Roe v. Wade had not happened, and instead the right had been passed into law several years later, the debate against abortion would not exist today. People might still resent it and attempt to over-turn it, but the argument that they got it wrong when they put the case through would not exist - and they would be right. Passing laws or adding rights through courts always has a back lash. In the case of Gay Marriage, the federal government has allowed states to refuse to recognize legitimate gay marriages.

"If we were to wait ten years so that the younger generation would enter the voting populace, a generation which has vastly different ideas on the subject of gay marriage than current voters do, the scene would be very different. But for the government to continue to function in a stable way, we must allow for the democratic process to work. Otherwise - the Supreme Court and the President both will soon have too much power.

"People remain ignorant of all of this. They remain blissfully ignorant that these things are happening, that rights are being given and taken away illegally, that we are holding a double standard to ourselves and our enemies, that we are lying to ourselves and our citizens about what is happening and what we are doing. They know that something is happening, but they do not know what. And they do not care to know.

"These illusions need to be shattered. Reality needs to be seen, needs to be embraced, and needs to be recognized for what it is. Everyone of us must see it, think about it, and discuss it. Inaction, silence, and indecision - these things are all actions by themselves, and make us all complicit.

"There are no more innocents, and you have no idea how angry that makes me."
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Mar. 9th, 2006 @ 07:50 pm Awful Moments
Today I experienced one of those moments where, upon reading something written by a friend, you sink back into a depression, and know this person will bring you nothing but pain. And despite knowing this, you're tempted to pick up the phone and straighten the whole thing out. Because that phone call would fix everything in both of your lives. But you know that's a lie. You know it is one of those comfortable illusions we shroud ourselves in.

But now its barbs are stuck in you, and you can't shake it. You know the best thing to do is rip away the illusion, and have it done with. You know that when these notions first came to you, they were liberating. But now they have lured you into a trap, and seeing it for what it is you still walk into it, like a moth to a flame.

Despite seeing it for the pain it will cause you, you would still welcome it to avoid the pain that solitude would bring.
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Mar. 7th, 2006 @ 09:14 am Cutter
Current Music: Bad Religion - Better Off Dead
Greg stood in front of his bathroom sink and mirror, running hot water and soap over his fore-arms. The last thing he wanted, after all, was to get an infection.

There was a lot of pain in his life, at least that is the way it felt to him. He had been told that cutting yourself can help take away from the pain, distract from it, diminish it. May-be just inflicting pain on himself would give him mastery over the pain other people gave him. He didn't wish to turn to drugs, knowing that could form a habit that would affect the rest of his life. Here there was just a little bleeding and it would be over.

Bleeding, right. He left the hot water running and got out some neosporen, gauze and an ace bandage. He wanted to be ready.

Greg picked up the small razor blade he had taken from his job and pressed it against the skin three quarters of the way down his left arm. Looking stoically into the mirror, he dragged the blade across in one quick motion. Strangely, there was no pain. Looking down at his hand and the razor, he saw that neither had moved.

Staring at both intensely he willed it to move, to slide across and cut his skin. Neither budged.

Staring back at his face in the mirror the words of so many people who had given him pain can flooding back up, along with many words and voices he had never heard, but was sure was real; if they had never said it they had certainly thought it. Before long his own voice joined the others, mocking himself.

The razor's edge pressed down against his skin and angled itself slightly into the fleshy resistance as it tore across his skin in a sharp moment of pain followed by a dull throb.

The voices now silent he looked down at his arm, and the first thing that occurred to him was that it made a terrific mess. The running hot water was now stained with a silky red bubbled as it mixed with soap, diluted as it mixed with water, and drained away, only to be renewed by more blood coming from his arm.

The second thing that occurred to him, as he reached for his bath towel that hung next to the sink, was that he was suddenly dizzy. Pressing the towel against his arm to stop the bleeding, the dull throb took on a strangely sharp sensation that grew and faded as he applied pressure.

Pressing the towel to his arm with his chest, he used his free hand to reach for the gauze, dropped the towel and applied the gauze, using his chin, teeth and free hand to slowly wrap the gauze around his arm.

Once the cut was securely treated and the flow of blood had all but stopped he looked around. Blood on the counter, his shirt and skin, the floor and the towel, a nice red blotch was even growing on the gauze and bandaging. An anesthetic having been applied to his life, he turned off the lights and water, he left the mess as it lay, walked to his room, and sitting in his recliner turned on the news.
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Mar. 6th, 2006 @ 09:08 pm End of the World
Current Mood: excited
It is confirmed: They are remaking the Omen. I have seen the trailers without knowing that it was the Omen, but now it is confirmed - one of the greatest horror movies of all time is being re-made, albeit without Gregory Peck.

The advertising for the new movie is effective enough, without even knowing that it was the Omen I got excited about it, and the prospect of a re-make of the Omen taunted me until I was able to verify it on Yahoo and IMDB. It doesn't come close to standing up to the original campaign, however, which had ominous signs that read only "One hundred days to the end of the world," "93 days until the end of the world," with no mention of the movie or what it was. Curiosity was stirred up, people were slightly afraid. They didn't know what was going on and they were more than curious.

The end of the world is the best news I've had all month.
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Mar. 6th, 2006 @ 12:46 pm Ultraviolet
Three friends and I went to the movies yesterday as part of Operation Boredom. We wound up discussing drug use at one point, John and Dusty making references to themselves as stoners. How could they exclude me from that? I've indulged in at least as many substances as they have, though far less frequently. They replied with indignation "You smoke pot. We're stoners." Somewhere in the background I heard someone say "Tell 'em Steve Dave!"

The movie we wound up seeing was Ultraviolet. I wanted a movie that would make me laugh, leaving just Ultraviolet and Pink Panther. They wanted to see 16 Blocks, a basic cop drama, and one that follows a plot I've already seen. Besides, any time Bruce Willis plays a cop, his name better be John McClane and there'd better be terrorists.

I convinced them to see Ultraviolet, using the promise of a hot chick being in the movie. (They forgot that it was PG-13 so the promise of breasts was gone. I just wanted to laugh, I have pornography if I really want to look at breasts that badly.) The biggest of us, Sean, insisted we walk out and get our money back after Violet was break-dance-dodging bullets on the rooftop full of people that "weren't vampires."

To be frank, it was a terrible movie. But as far as terrible movies go, it was pretty good. No worse than Hulk, and funnier than Elektra.
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Mar. 4th, 2006 @ 12:43 pm Cthulhu: Dark Corners of the Earth
In the Cthulhu video game, like the Cthulhu mythos in general, most things will drive you insane. In fact, everything from slime to screams to dead bodies to a deep one will cost you sanity, to varying effects.

After the escape from Innsmouth, while running through the sewers and losing sanity at a steady pace, I come across an Elder Sign. One of the few safe things in the game. As well as being a save point, it provides a moment to catch your breath and re-gain sanity. Kneeling in front of it, I look at my feet to regain sanity faster.

I notice a small brown...thing next to my feet. "What's this?" I turn and pivot slowly, looking up to follow it...it's the leg of a dead man. And the body and torso and head. Oh...and he has no skin.

Miniature cut-scene and I am freaking out. I stand up and look at the Elder Sign dead-on. I can see nothing else. Cut-scene, something is crawling through the sewers coming for me. I can no longer hold onto the controller it is vibrating so forcefully.

Apparently, "safe" is an extremely relative word in this game.
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Feb. 22nd, 2006 @ 02:09 pm Possessed or Rocking Out?
Normally, when I'm sick, I am still coherent. Sometimes, though, stupid shit just manages to creep into my life and make me look like an idiot.

I got into a heated argument with someone at the college today about the Just War tradition. He had just said stupid about recognizing Augustine and recognizing right intentions as a means of preventing both unjust and unnecessary wars. Being an intellectual, I flipped him off in the middle of his argument.

He stammered and stopped, looked confused, and walked away.

I looked at my hand and noticed that instead of flipping him off, I had somehow made the sign of the beast with my hand.

If nothing else, I don't think anyone has ever countered Augustine's theories with "LONG LIVE ROCK, ASSHOLE!"
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Feb. 21st, 2006 @ 08:48 am (no subject)
Love died in 1996. You may find its remains, complete with dental records, in the tomb of John Abbott.
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Feb. 8th, 2006 @ 01:13 pm Scary Science
As somewhat of an elitist, I was shocked to discover something about myself today while reading Koestler's Roots of Coincidence.

I know just enough about science, mathematics, and the laws of nature to really, really scare me.
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Feb. 6th, 2006 @ 05:17 pm Action Flick
The action movie is officially back. Joining the ranks of Rambo IV and Rocky VI, they are making a Die Hard IV.

I don't want to hear any talk of aging actors, either. I just don't care. They can pull it off, it's a movie, and it's time that the hijacking terrorists learned a lesson. If we ever need to, we can always pull Rambo out of retirement and send him over to Iraq. We can send John McClane to the airport and take care of hijackers.

And on a serious note about the aging actors? That's the point of Rocky Balboa.

These movies will be great because I say they will be, and even if they happen to be worse than Hostel, they won't let me down.
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Feb. 6th, 2006 @ 02:35 pm She's A Lesbian
Greg picked up Ashley from her house, and driving her to the theatre. It being the first time she was in his car, she admired the collection of music he kept in his car, naming the various bands, and pointing out the leap from Modest Mouse and Firewater to the blatantly different MC Chris.

"Oh, it's not mine," Greg assured her. "It's Emily's." Worried that she might perceive some competition for his affection, Greg assured her the path to his heart was clear and open for her. "She's a lesbian," he informed her as they stopped at a red light.
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Feb. 6th, 2006 @ 01:20 pm The Rebel Smoker
Ashes to Ashes


In the scene of Frank Miller's Sin City that Quentin Tarantino directed, the dead police officer is talking to Dwight, who is driving the car to the tar pits, even as he lights up a cigarette.

"Everyone's a smoker when they're down," is the repeated line from that scene.

We return to the habit of smoking not only when we are down because the nicotine calms us, and not only because it is a familiar habit, and we always feel safest within the confines of our familiar habits. We return to it because it is killing us, and we know it.

We are taking our fate into our own hands when we smoke, both by killing ourselves and denying it to the world, or taking the harm out of anything the world can do to us. If we are killing ourselves, what horrors can the world possibly retain for us?

We deny the public by smoking. We are doing something that they say we ought not to do, something that is reviled by many people and is increasingly outlawed in public places. Smoking replaces Cartman's mantra of "I do what I want."

The cigarette is quickly becoming the sign of the outlaw, the rebel. From figures such as Johnny Cash, to our own personal experiences of being persecuted for smoking, yet refusing to quit. The world has no holds on us, it cannot kill us and it cannot make us stop killing ourselves.

In this one thing, this one symbol, we find peace from the outside world, a place that, try as it might, it cannot touch us.

There is an addendum to be added to an old line, one we know since childhood even if we do not know its origins.

Ashes to ashes;
Dust to dust;
The world can no longer touch us.
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Feb. 6th, 2006 @ 12:26 pm (no subject)
After class, Greg stumbled back to his car, breathing heavy and feeling the effects of the pills that he had taken. Slumping into the seat of his car, he gazed into the ether, letting his mind wander to far off thoughts.

Neither his mind or body were in the grips of hallucinagens, but instead were merely accelerated along with his metabolism, through a combination of caffeine and other natural herbs. His body, however, no longer functioning normally, sent his brain away, escaping to find a release and place of normality.

Before long, Greg found himself longing for proximity, not of another body or person, but proximity of another soul. This proximity, he realized, does not know the distances of the earth, and cannot be seperated by time, place, or the normal infedelities that can seperate.

He wondered if this proximity he longed for was love, the kind that cannot be tampered with or seperated by other people, its reality too concrete and set beyond the bodies of those involved. He wondered if this love was something found in soul-mates, people who recognize in another a comfort or facet of themselves that is lacking. He wondered if this love was God.

Greg gazed into the ether, and in the traffic of other people, cars, and nature he saw angels of love, vessals of God and in these things he saw past the boundaries of eternity.

His nose twitched, and a sneeze dispelled it, along with his reverie. When his eyes were raised again, the ether was gone and all that remained were a few trees and people walking along their way.

Greg grabbed his bag, closed the door of his car, and stumbled onto his next class.
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Feb. 5th, 2006 @ 07:59 pm Intentions
What would you do, if you could go back and infect the past, broad strokes of it, with your intentions?

What would you do? What would you change? Anything?
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