So I bought the PS3.
There were a couple of factors that helped me arrive at this decision. They are as follows:
1. Price. A "decent" Playstation 3 is significantly less expensive than a "decent" Les Paul. This may be because I don't really know anything about what makes a game system a good one, and way too much about guitars.
2. I needed a DVD player anyway. Now, spending $500+ on a DVD player that also "plays some games or something" is very poor rationalization. But it also plays Blu-Ray! And be able to play Blu-Ray it shall-- even though I don't have a 1080p HDTV.
3. "Hey, wanna come to my room and play Madden/Call of Duty/Soul Calibur/Guitar Hero?" is definitely the new "Hey, wanna come over and watch a movie while I sit awkwardly close and try to unhook your bra without arousing suspicion?"
4. Metal Gear Solid 4. I hear it's pretty alight.
5. I'm a Fender guy at heart. Betraying Leo (Fender) by giving Les (Paul [Gibson]) some of my hard earned monies instead would eat me up inside. Though I suppose giving it instead of Sony isn't doing anything for anybody. Especially America.
6. Chris Scaffa. He isn't allowed to bring his PS3 up to school and I worry that separation from one for a prolonged period will emotionally and psychologically damage him. Aw, who am I kidding? This isn't a reason at all. Just a completely legitimate concern.
And there you have it. A collection of lazy, terrible excuses for buying the most expensive game system with the smallest library on the market. But I mean, Hey. Seriously. Metal Gear Solid 4. It's pretty alright, man.
So summer is coming to an end. I feel an obligation to sit back and reflect on everything that's happened in the past four months and present something universally identifying and insightful about it-- but I gotta be honest here, I'm coming up empty. What did I do this summer... I left for work every weekday morning at like 8:45 and got home too late to do anything other than establish some stage of undress before collapsing into bed. There I did my best to ninja around the Six Flags Great Adventure, avoiding the ever-watchful eye of higher-ups and create the illusion of working diligently. In reality I played a lot of Tekken and took a lot of naps.
No, that isn't completely fair. The aforementioned pretty accurately sums up my last week of work, but the time that proceeded my trip to Puerto Rico I actually wracked my brain pretty hard to come up with ways to motivate and inspire the employees under my leadership. Whether or not I was successful, the red-nametag life at Six Flags isn't one a person can sustain for too long, I think. Eventually the hopelessness of generating happiness and efficiency gets to everybody and they end up playing Tekken and avoiding the responsibility they so eagerly embraced only a few weeks previously. Now, don't get me wrong. I made more friends this summer than I have in any other I can remember-- my co-leads and supervisors made the job tolerable and time spent together outside work amazingly enjoyable. With the Regent Diner and various houses as stomping grounds, I've got some seriously bitchin' memories to look back on when I become miserly about potentially returning next summer.
...blah blah Six Flags blah blah...
Let's pause for a moment and talk about McCain and Obama's respective Vice Presidential candidate selections.
No, you're right. Let's not.
So what else did I do this summer? I dieted and worked out a lot. Now I could easily write an entry (or perhaps even two) detailing the specifics of my journey discovering the nuances of diets and dumbells and crunches and yogurt and supplements and motivation and lack of motivation and discouragement and body image and confidence and mistake and eventual results-- but I feel kind of awkward doing that. I realize this blog is about me and my life, but the subject just seems too narcissistic. Even for me. There is a story to tell though, so if you're legitimately interested drop me a line. We'll chat over an assortment of skinless grilled chicken, whey powder, fish oil, leafy greens and whole wheat whatever. And yogurt.
Speaking of yogurt, I got my wisdom teeth out. The procedure was just fine thanks to my new buddy Nitrous Oxide, but recovery was a bitch-- sure Vicodin calmed the pain, but it also made me want to just sit around and mope. So that wasn't cool. I'm still not allowed to eat certain things and I need to make sure I clean my gums thoroughly, lest food get trapped in there and grow alien-spider legs-- effectively "body snatching" me.
But anyway, more recently I started writing a new short story. This one's going to be longer than mine tend to be. I typically would now say "maybe I'll post some of it sometime" but never do, so I'll abstain and keep your expectations low. If you're itching for some spoilers, I've got these to offer you: Unlike most of my stories, which feature urban settings-- this one takes place in Wyoming. It's in first person. Like I tend to do, it abuses the present tense. It has a staggered timeline and doesn't necessarily move chronologically. There isn't any drug use and uhhh... only slight pervasive language.
Writing it is a trip, but one I'm enjoying.
Well, I'm beginning to lose focus so I guess I'll start wrapping this up. I'm excited to go back to school and see everybody-- hell, I'm even a little bit excited about my classes. I want the acoustic shows and special events and parties and creative opportunities that come along with a semester at Ramapo. So I guess I never did come up with anything insightful to say. It's all good, we got time for that.
I guess that about says it.
Bomb the Blogosphere,
Mike
Monday, August 25, 2008
Sunday, August 03, 2008
Outta town, blowin' up
Yeah, things done changed.
August, with a bullet. It's been a long time since I've written anything on the internet or elsewhere-- I guess because I've been working so much and pausing so little, a gesture saved for hesitance, because it isn't even that I haven't anything to say. So without further ado, let's recap my summer and cast a wary eye forward, remembering always the peripheral.
August, like the stick on the pink of my neck, I find myself a little rearranged. For better or for worse-- pragmatism alludes me sometimes. I am on the closing action of a crush, one that I let fold and dissipate into the past tense like too many others, inaction again my worst enemy. Meanwhile, I dawdle unnecessarily between the introduction and rising action of my newfound interest in fitness. And now I digress...
I find it interesting and strange and sometimes frightening how people grow and change at different speeds, bloom at different times and such. I'm gradually coming to the conclusion that I bloom late-- I tend to get into things, experience things, long after others have. Like my phases were put on standby by my youth and are only now rushing to catch up and prepare me for adulthood. If that's true, and I'll be damed if I know whether it is or not, maybe it's because we were always moving every 18 months or so between my second and seventh birthday. Maybe some reset button was hit every time I had to pack up and make new friends, get used to a new school, and shit like that. I'm young for my grade to begin with-- I think it's possible that my fast cars, fast women and fitness phase(s?) was(were?) put on hold, so I was still chillin' in a bean bag chair while everybody else was buying tubs of powdered whey and busting their asses for varsity letters. Of course, this could just be nonsense.
...but I digress. My listening habits of the summer have deviated strongly from the moody indie rock staples I've come to love lately, but I'm enjoying the more panoptic view of music. If I had a last.fm it would reveal that I've been listening to more 90's hip hop than anything else-- Wu-Tang Clan and all their solo efforts, Biggie, A Tribe Called Quest, Dre, and Outkast's criminally under appreciated Southernplayalisticadillacmuzik. Mix that in with The Raconteurs, Mother Hips, Gorillaz and Protest the Hero (a sick Canadian metal band) and you've got my summer soundtrack. As I type I'm listening to Tool-- happy to try to shed the pretense I've carried the past few years and enjoy music for what it is.
I leave for Puerto Rico Wednesday at like 3am to teach leadership and ceremonial performance. Hooray?
August, with the cinnamon tingle of September between ghost jacaranda breezes. I'm ready to go back to school. That is, I'm ready to live with three other guys and get into trouble and not have to worry about sneaking up the stairs so as not to arouse suspicion. That is, I'm ready to have some relatively carefree fun again. Finally. Some fresh air. I don't know what's to come this semester but I know I'm gonna hit it hard-- put as much of myself as I can into whatever it is I do and live it up. Live and breathe the dream. Rock me baby.
And now a question for the masses. At the end of this summer do I buy a Gibson Les Paul or a Playstation 3? Comment your vote.
Bomb the Blogosphere
and Happy August,
Mike
August, with a bullet. It's been a long time since I've written anything on the internet or elsewhere-- I guess because I've been working so much and pausing so little, a gesture saved for hesitance, because it isn't even that I haven't anything to say. So without further ado, let's recap my summer and cast a wary eye forward, remembering always the peripheral.
August, like the stick on the pink of my neck, I find myself a little rearranged. For better or for worse-- pragmatism alludes me sometimes. I am on the closing action of a crush, one that I let fold and dissipate into the past tense like too many others, inaction again my worst enemy. Meanwhile, I dawdle unnecessarily between the introduction and rising action of my newfound interest in fitness. And now I digress...
I find it interesting and strange and sometimes frightening how people grow and change at different speeds, bloom at different times and such. I'm gradually coming to the conclusion that I bloom late-- I tend to get into things, experience things, long after others have. Like my phases were put on standby by my youth and are only now rushing to catch up and prepare me for adulthood. If that's true, and I'll be damed if I know whether it is or not, maybe it's because we were always moving every 18 months or so between my second and seventh birthday. Maybe some reset button was hit every time I had to pack up and make new friends, get used to a new school, and shit like that. I'm young for my grade to begin with-- I think it's possible that my fast cars, fast women and fitness phase(s?) was(were?) put on hold, so I was still chillin' in a bean bag chair while everybody else was buying tubs of powdered whey and busting their asses for varsity letters. Of course, this could just be nonsense.
...but I digress. My listening habits of the summer have deviated strongly from the moody indie rock staples I've come to love lately, but I'm enjoying the more panoptic view of music. If I had a last.fm it would reveal that I've been listening to more 90's hip hop than anything else-- Wu-Tang Clan and all their solo efforts, Biggie, A Tribe Called Quest, Dre, and Outkast's criminally under appreciated Southernplayalisticadillacmuzik. Mix that in with The Raconteurs, Mother Hips, Gorillaz and Protest the Hero (a sick Canadian metal band) and you've got my summer soundtrack. As I type I'm listening to Tool-- happy to try to shed the pretense I've carried the past few years and enjoy music for what it is.
I leave for Puerto Rico Wednesday at like 3am to teach leadership and ceremonial performance. Hooray?
August, with the cinnamon tingle of September between ghost jacaranda breezes. I'm ready to go back to school. That is, I'm ready to live with three other guys and get into trouble and not have to worry about sneaking up the stairs so as not to arouse suspicion. That is, I'm ready to have some relatively carefree fun again. Finally. Some fresh air. I don't know what's to come this semester but I know I'm gonna hit it hard-- put as much of myself as I can into whatever it is I do and live it up. Live and breathe the dream. Rock me baby.
And now a question for the masses. At the end of this summer do I buy a Gibson Les Paul or a Playstation 3? Comment your vote.
Bomb the Blogosphere
and Happy August,
Mike
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