28 August 2006

being costanza.

I have this wit and barbed sarcasm. They are weapons, the only ones I've ever been trained to use. My handling of these weapons is flawless, the delivery clean and sometimes staggered in effectiveness. They contain such sharp points the incisions themselves bear a sort of metaphysical nature, occasionally causing the victims to not only ponder the wound but the instrument itself. They are carefully crafted, tested. They are true.

Unfortunately, when a battle comes, they are slow to production.

And then I'm forced to use half-completed weapons or another form of combat, such as silence or self-deprecation.

Then, almost as a form of torture, these tools continue to roll off the production line well after the battle is over. What am I supposed to do with them now? Sit on these situationally-honed tools in the event I may employ them elsewhere? The chances of this are slim. No, these are not weapons for the future. These, dear friends, are disgraceful reminders of ineptitude.

Just like George.

18 August 2006

Is It So Hard? - iPod todo list

You would think with all the encouraged calandar and contact syncing that Apple (or anyone else for that matter) would develop software to create a todo list. Sure, you can just write a list in a TXT file and slap that on the ol' Mini but it removes the best part about a list. I want to see the items disappear. I want to do something and check it off. Instead I have to deal with a static page with no formatting. Exploration into the subject (far previous to this post) led me to the podsites but that doesn't help me with my lust for a checklist. I know I'm not helping out with the development (because I wouldn't know where to begin) but ...

... is it so hard?

12 August 2006

cracking out on the past.

I'm sitting here listening to the orchestral version of "Aerith's Theme" from Final Fantasy VII, a rush of nostalgia encouraging me to wax fondly on the mid-nineties.

To be fair (and mostly this is for Katie who, whenever I even mention a video game, feels ashamed and wonders aloud how I ever fooled her into letting me see her naked) the reason why I have the FFVII soundtrack in the first place (because my CD copies from when I was 16 are nowhere to be found) is in order back up a video project I'm working on. Lately I've been working on a "reel" of sorts. Really it's just a series of vignettes I'm putting together using my JVC Everio. In any case, the opening is of me waking up for work at 4:00am set to the opening theme of FFVII (the part of the tune just before the bombing mission). I'm even working on the logo to include the Meteor part of the game's but to read "A Day for Nick." I'm pretty excited.

But this project also comes at a time I've started playing a restored copy of Final Fantasy Tactics, another game I played incessently when I was in my teens (a game I still play probably once a year -- where else can you find a game that features Jesus as the final boss?). Last time I was up at my parents', my brother Josh and I cleaned it off (it looked like it'd been used as a coaster for the last three or four years) and now I waste a lot of free time building characters.

Sure this is time probably better spent writing, editing, coding or even playing outside (World Cup 2010 is right around the corner afterall and I have to get in shape if I'm going to take America all the way) but, instead, a mere week before my schedule ceases to be my own with school starting on the 21st, I demand my Ramza Beoulve be the best. A work buddy of mine, Jamie, and I were discussing this on the train the other day (he's picked up playing FFVII) and he gave me the same justification I've been convincing myself with: this is how we relax. These game may seem like mindless musings from an industry bent on destroying our youth but, in all seriousness, the stories in these two games (and countless others) have a lot of depth and are compounded with the nostalgia of the first time we played them. Also, it could be a lot worse for us: there's a karaoke track for Sephiroth's theme "One-Winged Angel" on this CD.

10 August 2006

passive-aggressive revenge.

I hate notes. Well, I hate the kind of notes people leave when they have something to say, some small criticism or demand, and don't have the cajones to step up and say something to your face. Oh, sure, they'll tell you it's because they didn't know if they'd see you or that it's not a big deal once they're confronted. But that's nonsense.

My roommate is notorious (in my eyes) for this. She has notes everywhere asking everything from where here HEPA filter is for her vacuum to cleaning up the living room. And I know why: the confrontation makes her nervous, a detail I can assume since whenever she owns up and tries to ask people anything that may be responded to negatively, she speaks only in interogatives, a huge pet peeve of mine. Few small things can take me from placid to annoyed faster than ending non-question statements with an ascending pitch.

Here's the thing about the notes: I live with her. She's going to see me. And I know she just cleaned up the living room but I don't need a crudely-scrawled missive telling me to keep it clean. I'm going to do my best but there are laws of entropy. It will be messy again. And you know what else: it wouldn't have been so bad if she would have just told me in person with some confidence. "Hey, can you take your pizza boxes on your way out today?" In fact, I would have been apologetic. But now my ire is raised and I feel almost vengeful. I hope the place gets messy. In fact, I hope the whole loft gets messy just after all the paper and pens/markers/pencils/chalk/charcoal in the immediate area incinerate so that, when she has to tell me the place is a sty, she has to say something in person.

She'll probably still try to write it in blood on the wall or something.

Postscript: this post is not ironic.