July 17, 2010
I’m looking for people who are interested in starting a development group with me and Hylian. We don’t have any projects at the moment, but that’s why I’m looking for more people. Ideas can grow stagnant and boring without any other input. We need people who can bring interesting and wonderful ideas to the board, so we can all nurture it and make it come to fruition. If you’re interested, talk to either me or Hylian and we can give you a better explanation.
July 13, 2010
Sorry about the hiatus, but I’m afraid I still won’t be free, but I think a week was enough without a post so I’ll take a quick break and fill in the gap with one of my favorite animes. Kaiba is a science fiction story about a world where memories can be altered as you see fit, and bodies can be bought and sold. It starts off with Kaiba, a man with a hole in his chest, no memories, and the picture of a girl he doesn’t remember. It’s a short series, but wonderful. The art is beautiful and unique (you will quickly get used to it and come to love it) It’s a world of greed, corruption, a world he must travel to uncover his memories and find the woman in the picture.
June 24, 2010
I turned 17, but it really doesn’t feel like it to be honest. Although I’ve always had problems with reality. I often think of myself in the third person. Seeing what happened, what you’ve done, what you’ve written, it feels like I’m reading someone else’s words. I tend to place myself in what I’m reading, what I’m watching, and I become part of it. But I also feel like I lose myself. But which is the reality, the book or the one reading the book. I’m mostly just paranoid, but I’m never sure. After my short term memory is over, I begin to think, did it really happen? I mean what proof is there out there? My memories? No, they don’t feel real. Written documents, witnesses, etc.? Read some 1984. He brings up a good point. How can we prove anything? The victor writes history. Our perception of reality is about as much proof we have. I’ve always wondered if I was in a dream (I just finished watching Kanon teehee) Sometimes, when I go to the bathroom, I wonder if I really am going to the bathroom. There are several philosophies concerning reality. Ayn Rand’s Objectivism claims (if I can remember my studies correctly) what you see, is real, it is reality. If it is what you see, then isn’t it reality? Clearly we exist because we think, so doesn’t that make it reality? Sort of makes us god. If we can change what we percieve, we become creators. I always thought it was ironic that people would be considered insane because they believed their insanity was normal. Who is really the insane one? When I think back to existentialism and nihilism, I wonder, if we can’t prove what we see is there, then what’s the point? Of course, existentialism claims it is essential to create that meaning for yourself. You can start by believing this is reality. However I’m too paranoid to simply accept a reality. You can’t prove anything, except that you exist can you? I’ve often seen reality being a theme of many works of arts. I did a research essay on it for my Literature class. Kanon had it, and other anime had it. Characters who bend reality, choose what they see, and sometimes without even realizing. Yuuchi didn’t realize for years that Ayu actually fell. Kaori wouldn’t admit that she had a sister. We’re selfish things, completely changing what we are, who we are, and what the people we love are, so we don’t suffer. But then, who’s to say the changed reality isn’t the real reality. In Kaiba, memories could be erased, altered, and traded. What a horrible thing to not be sure what really happened. It’s a bad habit of mine whenever I watch or read something to assume that everything that is going on is an illusion, or they’re insane (I had a fucking field day with One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest and A Portrait of The Artist as Young Man) Does becoming an adult mean accepting a reality? I often see adults who seem to have done just that. Is this why we’re considered children? I suppose it’s part of truly maturing. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go alter this faggotry I wrote from my memory.
June 11, 2010
After pledging to post here at least once everyday, I am often strained to think of what to write. I mean, I can’t really be one of those assholes who posts what he ate this morning (I didn’t even eat this morning) and I can’t be one of those guys that have HOLY FUCK AMAZING blog posts, because I’m just not that good. I write what I can, like my anime impressions and such. Speaking of which, I would have had Angel Beats ready, but I have several torrents and all of them more important (and larger) than AB. I will post about it tomorrow though, if you’re damning the gods this moment. You see, it’s not like I don’t know what to post about. In fact, I had some good ideas on what to post, but expression escapes me. It’s a torture to not be able to see dreams come to fruition, and theres no worse lost dream than the ones you can’t even explain. Articulation is a cruel bitch kids, so please, pay attention in English class. Sure, I enjoy English, but only when we’re talking about books. The eloquence and magnificent ability these people have in creating and expressing art. It is really something to admire, even aspire. I’ve always wanted to be able to write, but words often escape me. But I think everyone has trouble at times. I mean hell, James Joyce, one of the greatest authors of all time, destroyed the manuscript for Stephen Hero because he didn’t like it. And yet he went on to write A Portrait of The Artist as A Young Man, which is a great book by the way. But who am I to compare my simple writers block with the trials and tribulation of one of the greatest literary minds of all time. But he didn’t give up when Portrait was denied publication, and I shouldn’t give up because I can’t think of a good synonym. AND NEITHER SHOULD YOU KIDS. So kids, pay attention in English (fuck the other classes) and read. I’ll do a Kona’s picks eventually and all 1 of you can get something from there. Good luck, and good night.