Society Killed Bruno Mars

For me anyways.

(to listen to the songs noted in each picture, just click it.)
It all started when by brother gave me Bruno Mars’ debut album, Doo-Wops and Hooligans.

I started to appreciate it more and more.

And eventually liked it a lot.

I even got a bit weird with it too.

But, as Q said in the Next Generation finale, All good things must come to an end. Songs on the album got a great deal of exposure and were picked up by teenyboppers.

But once the Mini Pop Kids covered it, it was pretty much damaged beyond repair.

 

Thanks a lot everyone. You know, this is why we can’t have nice things.

Getting the Hang of It: Twitter

Whew. That wasn’t so hard. I just tweeted my first tweet that wasn’t an automated one by WordPress regarding my posts.

Actually, for approximately the past 2 weeks, I’ve been trying to compile a tweet in which it fully incorporated my true and whole thoughts. And that can be hard with 140 characters. Especially with the deep and insightful stuff that goes on in my head. (Evidenced through my first tweet…).

But Twitter continues to baffle me. I first came to this hard realisation last Sunday when my technologically confused father asked me what Twitter was all about. And I sounded like a doofus trying to answer.

Yup that's exactly what I said. I even omitted some errs and umms and hmms and a lot more rambling to protect my self dignity and to save space. But mostly for dignity

A less coloured and more white version for all you racists.

C’mon me. The most internetually informed person within kilometres of this town. It’s Twenty-fucking twelve! I should know what Twitter is all about. I should know what a hash tag is, or how to retweet, or if I should follow people who follow me, or even who to follow in the first place. I should be able to make perfect tweets out of any thought or experience, from the perfection of the sunny-side-up egg I just prepared, to the perfectly shaped stool I produced afterwards.

Even about the striking resemblance it shares with a bundle of Coconut Pocky sticks

But no. I am a huge Twitter n00b. Yes, I am. I am and I’m proud. Well..no I’m not. I am going to look up a Howcast video on how to use the most complex, un-straightforward, baffly, piece of internet mania the world has to offer right now.

Happy New Year…

It’s been 1 month and 12 days since I last posted, and I apologize for that. November and December have been extremely busy, and quite stressful, but I’m back. 2011 has come and went, and now we are at the dawn of a new year. If you really want to know where I stand in this whole 2012 end of the world theory, I’m not a believer. Sorry Paranoia Magazine recruits, I’m not interested in joining your ranks.

……..

Like all people in the western world, I have proposed to myself some resolutions to think about. So far the ones I will embark on for sure is to

1. Beat Final Fantasy I, II (Dawn of Souls version on my emulator), V (Advanced on emulator), VI (Advanced on emulator, actually in progress, I’m in Mt. Kolts, as I just started). III and IV are missing since I already beat them, and the ones on Playstation, PS2 and PS3 are missing since that’ll be my project next year. I’m on way to beat more Final Fantasy’s than my brother, who has beat VII, VIII, in progress with IX, and XIII.
2. Read more. A lot more. Planning to read at least 50 books this year. It’ll be a lot easier with my new Kobo touch ereader.
3. Write more. On this blog of course, but for myself, just some personal works to keep the gears in my head turning.
4. Learn more. Knowledge is really fun to come by, and learning is something that keeps us all young, right? There is so much more to learn, and I’m interested in expanding my knowledge.

I’ve also made one change this new year, and it’s got something to do with my appearance. I got me-self some bangs, something I hadn’t had since Grade 3, so ha.

So, happy new year readers, expect much more from us in the coming year, hold on to those resolutions, and live the year as if it were your last. (pun intended.)

Coffee: My Arch Nemesis.

Ever since my first sip of the liquid, I hated it. I hate coffee. Any kind of it, except Iced Cappuccinos. Ice Cappy, you are excused from this rant.

The preparation is long and boring, and I hate the noise of a kettle heating up. Once the water is all steamy, I guess you just dump a teaspoon of Maxwells House instant coffee powder, pour some water in, add that milk powder that shares a strong resemblance to crack cocaine, and stir.

My arch nemesis and I.

So you may be thinking, If this girl can’t make coffee to save her life, why doesn’t she just drive up to the nearest Tm Hortons, and buy one for a couple of cents? Well, buying it is just as terrible. You gotta walk up to the not-so-peppy Tims lady and order a coffee. Doesn’t sound too hard, but trust me, it is. You have to speak in the strange, twisted language of avid coffee drinkers for her to decipher your order. Double-Double? Half-and-Half? What-and-what on Earth are you people trying to say? Double what? Half what? Of course, finding out what they mean is only one question away. But these days, people my age are always drinking some form caffeine on a daily basis (the ever so rancid “Monsters”, coffee, 172 different kinds of soda pops, etc.) so this question will probably be dismissed, not-taken seriously, and simply laughed off. So that cancels out any chance of me consuming store-bought coffee.

Let’s go back to my homemade instant coffee. I hold it in a scalding mug, and hastily set it down on a decorative coaster. I stare at it and my nose crinkles at the odour. Here comes the really disgusting part. I have to drink it. I slowly bring it to my mouth, and blow softly to cool it down a bit. I then proceed to tip the mug all the way and let the disgustingly rich, harsh, bitter, and absolutely cruel liquid seep into my mouth, attack my taste buds, and proceed down my throat. This is the part where I usually

• evacuate the perimeter of the tainted mug
• scream till I cry
• vomit. just vomit.
• toss the coffee 30m away from me. If prepared

All that said, PCCS (post coffee consumption syndrome) is almost as bad as the drinking session itself. The caffeine sets into my system, and it’s nothing like what others feel when they drink coffee. I’ve heard it wakes you up, energizes you, and keeps you peppy all through the morning. With me, the caffeine attacks my brain. Migraines, and pounding headaches follow consumption. The whole unpleasant experience if preparing and drinking the coffee has left me cranky and impatient. My stomach twists and knots, as PCCS cramps would knock out menstrual cramps anytime. And with PCCS comes the breath. My breath would reek of the liquid, but a bit worse. Deep, rich, trashy, crap is just what it is. The scent is about on par with the taste.

Coffee lovers, worshipers, supporters, and just plain drinkers, if my post has offended you, be sure to remember that I am not like you. I don’t understand the so-called “wonders and joys” of caffeine. Caffeine hurts my body, my mind, and soul. I am “caffeine-intolerant”. But I do apologize if I hurt you. I really do.

Consumed By Photography: My Game Plan to Get Back on Top

It’s happened to me. It’s probably happened to a lot of people who went from creative writer to photographer. My photography took over. I have become consumed by it! My posts have less and less words every time! I went from humorous essays to photos with half-assed captions. I have become…A PHOTOBLOGGER!

Now you must be wondering, is that a good thing? What’s wrong with photoblogging? Well, if your asking me this, your probably new to this blog, or clueless. Or normal. Well, I am NOT and artist. I’m not, I’m not, I’m NOT! I am not artsy, I don’t have cute trinkets all over the place, and I don’t run around taking pictures. OK I do. But I don’t want to! That’s just the part of me that dominates at the present moment. While the other me is kind of being squashed by this me. I mean, that me. What is the other me? The me I kind of want to come back. My inner snarker, goof-ball, nerd, grammar obsessed, and filter-free mouthed me! I WANT IT BACK.

An avid Occupy "Other Me" protester, as she enthusiastically refuses eviction notices,

But wait, let’s go back to the question asked. What is wrong with photoblogging? Nothing really. It’s just that, I miss being a writer, I miss being able to just write great stuff of of thin air. But once it does come back, I’m sure I’ll miss this me. Well, not as much as I miss that me now. But I will miss it. Why can’t I just be balanced?! Is that so much to ask?! Or is balance just an unattainable, unreachable dream? But who am I asking to get me back anyway? It is up to me, after all. It always was.

So what am I going to do about it? I guess it all comes down to what I choose to put on this blog. To stop caring what other people think. I’m not blogging to please anybody, or to get famous or anything. I just blog because it’s fun. And me being overly selective and obsessive about the content and what I put up, is starting to make it, well, NOT fun. And when I’m not having fun blogging, the blog starts to reek of boring, unachievable “perfection“. And that is not something I want to put my name on.

I have calmed down a bit now, and am starting to come up with some ideas to make blogging fun again. To kind of abandon this whole “photoblogging” essence of my work, and focus a bit more on writing. But don’t worry one bit. Photography is, and always will be a hobby. And JUST that. Nothing more, nothing less. So still expect there to be photos.

Thank you for listening to my plea/rant thing. Good night everybody.