Hey, I'll be honest. I'm very critical. I'm always stating my opinion on various topics and I constantly point out mistakes or things that just don't work from my perspective. No one hears this more then my sisters and they get pissed that I constantly criticize things (I think it's because I'm always criticizing the stuff they like, but that's besides the point). I'm going to take this time to examine the reasons they tell me to stop criticizing and show how they are pretty much untrue, since I've seen these reasons pop up from other people and they need a good pwning.
First, they think that it's bad to criticize the works of others. I'll admit, there are some bad criticisms people make at times. Saying "that sucks" and giving no reason other then "because it does" is a pretty bad criticism. However, it's better to classify that as a complaint rather then a critique, since it lacks any sort of real support. Now, something like "I didn't like that story because the plot was hard to understand" is a real criticism since it has some logical backing.
Besides that, criticisms are extremely useful to the person who made the work as shows the creator things they need to work on. While just saying "it's good" or "it's bad" doesn't help at all, analyzing the work and pointing out flaws allows the person who made it to improve on their future work or fix their existing one. I know this from experience, since I get really pissed when I get to the revision step in my school essays and all I hear is "it's good." So really, criticisms are better for the person who made the work then just complaints or mindless praise (which is exactly what my sisters do).
Another response I hear all the time is this one: "You have no right to criticize their work since you don't know how to make it and you don't know what the person who did went through." So, apparently, I can't have an opinion on something unless I make it myself. Makes perfect sense right? (/sarcasm) Ignoring the fact that everyone should have a right to their own opinion, lets think about this for a second. If, for example, you couldn't enjoy a movie unless you are a director, then why would you watch movies in the first place? If you don't make movies, then you wouldn't watch them because you wouldn't enjoy it. And if movies were only made for movie makers, what'd be the point? It'd be like giving a computer to someone who makes computers. All in all, if you don't make something, you still have a right to experience it and form your own opinion on it.
Now on to that knowing the process part. When you turn in your homework at school, does your teacher really care how long it took you or how you were feeling while doing it? Maybe, but will it affect your grade? Hell no. If I were judging the process of how something was made, I would care what happened during production. But I'm not, I'm judging the final complete piece. If the creator of the piece starts telling you what they went through while making their work, then they're not completely satisfied with it and they're just making excuses so you don't judge it as harshly. If they didn't find their work good enough, it wouldn't be out on the market. To sum it up, what happened during the creation of a piece is almost completely meaningless when judging the outcome.
In conclusion, my sisters are retarded. If someone tries to pull this stuff on you, go smack them in the face with knowledge! Or just smack them in the face. Whichever you prefer.
Monday, June 23, 2008
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Gilded Wings
Several years passed since the rebellion:
a childish war over silly ideas,
things have settled; instead of shooting our own,
we shoot others.
A young boy, out of Williamston, only nineteen;
He enlisted into the ranks of the infantry:
he rates only an Airman First Class.
He was a smart kid in the dumb time.
Studied at an academy, he knew a little:
some physics, can do math, built a radio;
his education was no where near perfect,
he just listened to the talks of old wise men.
He stayed at an university for a year,
that was all his mother can pay for.
Now he's off to fight for his wage.
His enlistment, some wit he will gain soon enough.
Dark blue like his heart was his uniform,
leaving home and flying to far off places.
The stripes of his rank were as green as his experience in battle.
He was a good kid for a place for bad men.
He served on the Federation's Air Ship Louis:
FAS Louis' mission of the day was simply,
drop off men on this island that the Federation
wants to take. Just a normal operation.
How wrong were the tacticians!
Airplanes appeared from the port side,
gunning at the metal hull. Crew ran able insanely,
in fear the the hull was going to give to the bullets.
Plans changed, before getting just a blizzard of noise,
FAS Louis was ordered to be a decoy.
This transportation mission was now just suicide,
the radio was broken...
The crew had no way to transmit their position;
the radio room was port side,
and the airplanes banged up that side good.
Crewmen already died on that side.
The brave soldiers to be dropped
fought on the deck of the airship,
trying to gun down the airplanes.
Our young airman was starboard... waiting for fate.
“Airman!” said an older man, dressed for combat:
he was a sergeant with a crazy look in his eyes.
“I want you on my squad! We are going to scavenge
the radio and bring it here!”
The airman could not refuse the death sentence,
the radio was their only hope... all their lives
depend on a box. How else would they call for help?
The unkindness* of planes weren't.
So our airman followed the sergeant and four soldiers
to the main deck, out in the open air.
The ship was divided, without a second thought, into
three sections, each independent from another.
To reach the left hall, one must go down stairs into it.
The men counted to three, then ran out of the hatch,
into the open air and range.
Our airman ran the fastest, not caring he shot a man die.
Bullets rain from above onto foolish men who stayed.
Despite the weight of his iron boots, our airman was
first. Then the sergeant. Lastly, only one soldier.
The others were lost.
The hull of the port side was blown open.
The men could only pray this wasn't folly.
They quickly ran to the radio room,
surrounded by the sound of wind.
If it wasn't for the iron boots and vests...
well... thank God the Federation gave them.
The three men stood in the radio room:
The sergeant grabbed a metal box.
“This should work boys! Now to get this thing to the bridge!”
There was a sudden boom, and it felt intensely hot.
The airplanes started to fire missiles into the opening
that was the left hull. The men quickly opened the door
to smoke and flames, through they must go.
The men ran for their lives, a line needless to say.
The sergeant held the radio tight to himself,
not to let it be lost to the sky. Suddenly,
an explosion was behind the airman.
He looked behind, he was always ahead of the squad...
probably out of fear of his life.
The soldier was gone...
The sergeant was only pieces of a whole.
Yet, in his state, the sergeant took off his iron vest,
wrapping it around the radio, to keep it from flying away.
The sergeant looked at the airman, “... survive...”
before he flew away into the blue vacuum.
The boy crawled to the radio, weeping.
He carried the thing to the main deck;
he was in a daze, from loss and chaos.
Suddenly soldiers crowd the boy.
He was carried into the bridge,
holding on to the radio.
The captain told them to follow him to his quarters.
With no care, all on his table were on the floor.
Quickly a man took the radio from our boy,
placed it on the table, then opened the box.
The boy was so lost of everything that happened,
but he saw the captain slapped the man.
The man was an engineer, trying to fix
the broken radio. The radio was beat up
from the attacks and the boy's experience
didn't help.
However, the boy slowly walked to the radio,
all in the room just stared, as he tinkered
the inners of the life saving box.
The captain nervously turned it on.
A voice talked through the box,
everyone smiled but the boy...
he fainted... observing his head,
something hit him good.
The boy would wake up to glided wings next to the landed airship.
The radio allowed the captain to tell their position.
The glided wings were of airplanes that came to their rescue.
Now the ship was in an airfield for repairs.
A hero, he was called.
The next day, he was dressed up in formal uniform.
It was plain and white, till the captain gave him a
medal and some fancy awards to add some color.
Our airman was now a Petty Officer,
but no longer a boy. After the ceremony,
he looked up at the blue sky. In the air,
is where loss and gain takes place... a dream and a nightmare.
*Unkindness is an obsolete term for a flock of ravens
a childish war over silly ideas,
things have settled; instead of shooting our own,
we shoot others.
A young boy, out of Williamston, only nineteen;
He enlisted into the ranks of the infantry:
he rates only an Airman First Class.
He was a smart kid in the dumb time.
Studied at an academy, he knew a little:
some physics, can do math, built a radio;
his education was no where near perfect,
he just listened to the talks of old wise men.
He stayed at an university for a year,
that was all his mother can pay for.
Now he's off to fight for his wage.
His enlistment, some wit he will gain soon enough.
Dark blue like his heart was his uniform,
leaving home and flying to far off places.
The stripes of his rank were as green as his experience in battle.
He was a good kid for a place for bad men.
He served on the Federation's Air Ship Louis:
FAS Louis' mission of the day was simply,
drop off men on this island that the Federation
wants to take. Just a normal operation.
How wrong were the tacticians!
Airplanes appeared from the port side,
gunning at the metal hull. Crew ran able insanely,
in fear the the hull was going to give to the bullets.
Plans changed, before getting just a blizzard of noise,
FAS Louis was ordered to be a decoy.
This transportation mission was now just suicide,
the radio was broken...
The crew had no way to transmit their position;
the radio room was port side,
and the airplanes banged up that side good.
Crewmen already died on that side.
The brave soldiers to be dropped
fought on the deck of the airship,
trying to gun down the airplanes.
Our young airman was starboard... waiting for fate.
“Airman!” said an older man, dressed for combat:
he was a sergeant with a crazy look in his eyes.
“I want you on my squad! We are going to scavenge
the radio and bring it here!”
The airman could not refuse the death sentence,
the radio was their only hope... all their lives
depend on a box. How else would they call for help?
The unkindness* of planes weren't.
So our airman followed the sergeant and four soldiers
to the main deck, out in the open air.
The ship was divided, without a second thought, into
three sections, each independent from another.
To reach the left hall, one must go down stairs into it.
The men counted to three, then ran out of the hatch,
into the open air and range.
Our airman ran the fastest, not caring he shot a man die.
Bullets rain from above onto foolish men who stayed.
Despite the weight of his iron boots, our airman was
first. Then the sergeant. Lastly, only one soldier.
The others were lost.
The hull of the port side was blown open.
The men could only pray this wasn't folly.
They quickly ran to the radio room,
surrounded by the sound of wind.
If it wasn't for the iron boots and vests...
well... thank God the Federation gave them.
The three men stood in the radio room:
The sergeant grabbed a metal box.
“This should work boys! Now to get this thing to the bridge!”
There was a sudden boom, and it felt intensely hot.
The airplanes started to fire missiles into the opening
that was the left hull. The men quickly opened the door
to smoke and flames, through they must go.
The men ran for their lives, a line needless to say.
The sergeant held the radio tight to himself,
not to let it be lost to the sky. Suddenly,
an explosion was behind the airman.
He looked behind, he was always ahead of the squad...
probably out of fear of his life.
The soldier was gone...
The sergeant was only pieces of a whole.
Yet, in his state, the sergeant took off his iron vest,
wrapping it around the radio, to keep it from flying away.
The sergeant looked at the airman, “... survive...”
before he flew away into the blue vacuum.
The boy crawled to the radio, weeping.
He carried the thing to the main deck;
he was in a daze, from loss and chaos.
Suddenly soldiers crowd the boy.
He was carried into the bridge,
holding on to the radio.
The captain told them to follow him to his quarters.
With no care, all on his table were on the floor.
Quickly a man took the radio from our boy,
placed it on the table, then opened the box.
The boy was so lost of everything that happened,
but he saw the captain slapped the man.
The man was an engineer, trying to fix
the broken radio. The radio was beat up
from the attacks and the boy's experience
didn't help.
However, the boy slowly walked to the radio,
all in the room just stared, as he tinkered
the inners of the life saving box.
The captain nervously turned it on.
A voice talked through the box,
everyone smiled but the boy...
he fainted... observing his head,
something hit him good.
The boy would wake up to glided wings next to the landed airship.
The radio allowed the captain to tell their position.
The glided wings were of airplanes that came to their rescue.
Now the ship was in an airfield for repairs.
A hero, he was called.
The next day, he was dressed up in formal uniform.
It was plain and white, till the captain gave him a
medal and some fancy awards to add some color.
Our airman was now a Petty Officer,
but no longer a boy. After the ceremony,
he looked up at the blue sky. In the air,
is where loss and gain takes place... a dream and a nightmare.
*Unkindness is an obsolete term for a flock of ravens
Friday, June 20, 2008
Icarus and Daedalus
Above the academy, over the air and sea
exists a blue horizon stained with red.
He was young at the time, nevertheless
a witness he was...
In the sea, awaits two airships, asleep
with their sails and flags down.
Militia Air Ship Daedalus and Icarus they were,
guarding the lives of Williamston.
The ships were knights in shining armor:
metal hulls with wooden decks. Glass
shields the captain and crew on one deck.
Rigged around the ships were beautiful wings and cloth.
A father commands MAS Daedalus...
his son masters MAS Icarus.
They protect the skies and seas...
till this day.
From the sky, fire rained down on Williamston.
Oh God, all was engulf in flames as raiders
flew over the city; death invaded:
black smoke and sails filled the sky.
Like angels, Daedalus and Icarus rose their sails,
off into the horizon they were, accelerating in the sea.
Then, like a glorious bird, the ships flew up, and rose
with hot air released from their mass into their sails.
Quickly, the Daedalus and Icarus circled and charged
into the ranks of the black sails and flags and smoke.
Fools and cowards cannot be in the air,
for they must watch fears reveal themselves.
Daedalus fired its cannons straight ahead and aside,
attempting to burn away the ailment in the sky.
The father commanded to free the earth from the
bombs of above.
Icarus swiftly flew into the enemy,
bravest aviators were they:
airmen from the wings of Icarus jumped onto
the decks of our enemy.
Oh, how brave was the frigate Icarus,
as the enemies' battleship prepared to release hell
Icarus flew below its hull, and suffered...
Fire rained down on Icarus as it shielded Williamston.
The father could only watch his son crash into the sea.
Night has fell and so has the flames:
Daedalus nestled in the soft waters as we mourn.
Williamston was saved, but for what cost?
A son.
Daedalus' captain stood before us,
all were survivors that stood in union square.
The militia captain broke down into tears,
he cried out he'll never fly again.
Discarded the rank and silver wings,
his uniform, he striped of command and meaning.
Without his son, he lost the will for flight.
“Oh God, why must you do this to me?”
The schoolboy watchs, as the moonlight
slowly shined upon him. He carried the story
of the tragic tale of Daedalus and Icarus.
A weight he will bring to the heavens...
when he sets sail.
exists a blue horizon stained with red.
He was young at the time, nevertheless
a witness he was...
In the sea, awaits two airships, asleep
with their sails and flags down.
Militia Air Ship Daedalus and Icarus they were,
guarding the lives of Williamston.
The ships were knights in shining armor:
metal hulls with wooden decks. Glass
shields the captain and crew on one deck.
Rigged around the ships were beautiful wings and cloth.
A father commands MAS Daedalus...
his son masters MAS Icarus.
They protect the skies and seas...
till this day.
From the sky, fire rained down on Williamston.
Oh God, all was engulf in flames as raiders
flew over the city; death invaded:
black smoke and sails filled the sky.
Like angels, Daedalus and Icarus rose their sails,
off into the horizon they were, accelerating in the sea.
Then, like a glorious bird, the ships flew up, and rose
with hot air released from their mass into their sails.
Quickly, the Daedalus and Icarus circled and charged
into the ranks of the black sails and flags and smoke.
Fools and cowards cannot be in the air,
for they must watch fears reveal themselves.
Daedalus fired its cannons straight ahead and aside,
attempting to burn away the ailment in the sky.
The father commanded to free the earth from the
bombs of above.
Icarus swiftly flew into the enemy,
bravest aviators were they:
airmen from the wings of Icarus jumped onto
the decks of our enemy.
Oh, how brave was the frigate Icarus,
as the enemies' battleship prepared to release hell
Icarus flew below its hull, and suffered...
Fire rained down on Icarus as it shielded Williamston.
The father could only watch his son crash into the sea.
Night has fell and so has the flames:
Daedalus nestled in the soft waters as we mourn.
Williamston was saved, but for what cost?
A son.
Daedalus' captain stood before us,
all were survivors that stood in union square.
The militia captain broke down into tears,
he cried out he'll never fly again.
Discarded the rank and silver wings,
his uniform, he striped of command and meaning.
Without his son, he lost the will for flight.
“Oh God, why must you do this to me?”
The schoolboy watchs, as the moonlight
slowly shined upon him. He carried the story
of the tragic tale of Daedalus and Icarus.
A weight he will bring to the heavens...
when he sets sail.
Friday, June 13, 2008
Homecoming
So after about a year of moving out of the house to live in the dorms of UCSC, I am finally coming home for an actual stay, not just a short break/visit. I can't help but be nervous, yet happy to finally return to my birthplace. I had many great adventures there and here in Santa Cruz. I will most definitely miss Santa Cruz, but I miss Long Beach too. Nevertheless, that's my story of the year, the end of a year one of college and living on my own in UC Santa Cruz.
Monday, June 9, 2008
Home again.
Now that I'm back in Van Nuys and I have gotten some sleep, I think its time I put up some pictures! I'm uploading the images onto the shared music photostream instead of my own personal one. The reason being, I forgot the login information when I was in Santa Cruz and didn't have access to it.
I'm going to post a few pictures that I thought turned out pretty cool, and as before the rest of the photos will be located here.
This post will be under construction as I lay out the basics, so if you happen to see it and it looks a little fucked up, then maybe you check this blog too often :P
I took this on the way to Santa Cruz, but I don't remember how close I was. You don't really see things like this in southern California, especially not Van Nuys. I thought it was pretty neat looking.
The beach I mentioned, with that rock formation that I thought was so cool. It was like a little grotto or something. Most of this is not visable during high tide, and a lot of the sealife we encountered was living on the wall of that structure at a point where, normally, it would have been underwater.
Another shot up close. Notice the muscles clinging to the rocks, and the seaweed stuff growing on the other rocks. I assume when the tide is high those are floating straight upwards, but are still attached to the rocks.
A doorway to the coast. Like I said, most of that is underwater normally, you can even see where the cutoff is.
A not-so-giant enemy crab.
Its hiding!
Barnacles living on Muscles living on the rock formation at sea. I think this says a lot about coexistence. :P
Starfish! We saw lots of these.
Edward looking at the rocks and ocean. See all that green stuff? More of what I started calling "funky rock hair"
This is when we were in the woods. Edward relaxing at the stream.
We found a little rickety bridge, and I made Edward cross it because he weighs less than I do, and when I was on it I got scared it might crack under me. It had nothing to do with the field mouse that came out of the bridge. (I wanted to pet that thing!)
Thats about as far as I got before I decided I didn't want to break the bridge.
One of the many springs along the stream.
I'm going to post a few pictures that I thought turned out pretty cool, and as before the rest of the photos will be located here.
This post will be under construction as I lay out the basics, so if you happen to see it and it looks a little fucked up, then maybe you check this blog too often :P
I took this on the way to Santa Cruz, but I don't remember how close I was. You don't really see things like this in southern California, especially not Van Nuys. I thought it was pretty neat looking.
The beach I mentioned, with that rock formation that I thought was so cool. It was like a little grotto or something. Most of this is not visable during high tide, and a lot of the sealife we encountered was living on the wall of that structure at a point where, normally, it would have been underwater.
Another shot up close. Notice the muscles clinging to the rocks, and the seaweed stuff growing on the other rocks. I assume when the tide is high those are floating straight upwards, but are still attached to the rocks.
A doorway to the coast. Like I said, most of that is underwater normally, you can even see where the cutoff is.
A not-so-giant enemy crab.
Its hiding!
Barnacles living on Muscles living on the rock formation at sea. I think this says a lot about coexistence. :P
Starfish! We saw lots of these.
Edward looking at the rocks and ocean. See all that green stuff? More of what I started calling "funky rock hair"
This is when we were in the woods. Edward relaxing at the stream.
We found a little rickety bridge, and I made Edward cross it because he weighs less than I do, and when I was on it I got scared it might crack under me. It had nothing to do with the field mouse that came out of the bridge. (I wanted to pet that thing!)
Thats about as far as I got before I decided I didn't want to break the bridge.
One of the many springs along the stream.
I wanted to climb up this fallen tree, but it went about 10 feet into the air at its highest point, and got pretty narrow, and Edward didn't think it was a good idea. My balance is not so great.
And as I said above, you can look at the rest of the photos here.
Also, I managed to find the forest we were in on Google's street view. You can check that out here. This is where we entered the forest, after parking the car about 100 yards back down the street on a dirt patch with some mailboxes.
And as I said above, you can look at the rest of the photos here.
Also, I managed to find the forest we were in on Google's street view. You can check that out here. This is where we entered the forest, after parking the car about 100 yards back down the street on a dirt patch with some mailboxes.
Sunday, June 8, 2008
Adventuring in Santa Cruz
Okay, so as Jayson pointed out, he came here to Santa Cruz in order to explore shit... and damn, we explored shit.
Today, we went to a army surplus store in Mountain View, to end up in Campbell, and we were very much amazed by the suburb. I was so amused, more by the fact we never heard of it, that I wiki(pedia)-ed on my iPhone, ending up to find out that Campbell was one of the most robust ecomonic spots of the southern Silicon Valley.
We later found out that the surplus store won't open for an hour, so we ended up looking around Campbell's famous (at least according to the wikipedia article) open-air shopping center. And for some reason, Barnes and Nobel cried out to us, so we went there. We entered realizing we didn't want books, only to end up buying Steampunk, Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea, Frankenstein, and Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.
Afterwards, Jayson brought goggles at the surplus store, while I brought a navy wooly-pully (tactical sweater). There were two jokes to this whole situation:
1) we went through all of this (and this will explain the books as well) for Jayson's interest in Steampunk.
2) I finally got my wooly-pully, after searching since last November, in the middle of the summer!
Afterwards, we left, going to the CA-1, the spot of today's geohash. We ended up finding out the geohash is off limits, so Jayson and I just drove off. We ended up driving into Bonny Doon, what I told Jayson was mainly country with a few homes. Driving into the woods, and up into Bonny Doon, I warned Jayson that we have no cellphone signal, which was bad, since the iPhone actually saved our lives a few times--mainly since it had maps and I had a compass.
We were pretty much enchanted by the area; we enjoyed looking around the community, that I mentioned Jayson many times that we (Sean, him, and me) should get a house out here for when we all go to UCSC. We were pretty freaked out by the bus stops, and yes there were bus stops in the woods, buses to Santa Cruz.
We ended up parking (and the parking spots were basically dirt mounts off the road with parking signs) and walking into the woods, following a stream. It was pretty awesome, we have pictures that will be posted later.
After that adventure, we went downtown for pizza, only to end up finding an antique sale out in the street. There, we ended up finding a messenger bag for Jayson and I brought the book Song of the Sky. Then we met my friend Rafael, my limo driver to the airport at times, and he told Jayson about his work on ecofriendly limos, and his experience with old school sailboats and electric cars, which got both of them into a talk about steampunk when Rafael brought it up... I of course was a bit upset, since I was really into the machinery that Rafael brought up, and less about the fashion of it (though, I like it).
On a related note, Jayson and I earlier had an little debate on what steampunk needs today. He said it needed more punk and less Victorian Age. While I thought that it needed less punk, and a lot more TRUE historical accuracy-- namely less Victorian Age, and more Edwardian Age to WWI-- more electricity and practicality, and way less wearing gears and goth clothes.
Anyways, we later went to get pizza, and then walked to the lagoon and explored it. Yes, we have pictures. We later walked the railroad tracks nearby, only finding it lead us nowhere.
After all was said and done, I, as the navigator the whole time, briefed Jayson on how to get home and wished him good luck and hopefully he'll be back online to put the pics up.
[PS: I hated how Jayson made me be sober from liquor, smoking, and painkillers for this weekend for the adventure <<]
Today, we went to a army surplus store in Mountain View, to end up in Campbell, and we were very much amazed by the suburb. I was so amused, more by the fact we never heard of it, that I wiki(pedia)-ed on my iPhone, ending up to find out that Campbell was one of the most robust ecomonic spots of the southern Silicon Valley.
We later found out that the surplus store won't open for an hour, so we ended up looking around Campbell's famous (at least according to the wikipedia article) open-air shopping center. And for some reason, Barnes and Nobel cried out to us, so we went there. We entered realizing we didn't want books, only to end up buying Steampunk, Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea, Frankenstein, and Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.
Afterwards, Jayson brought goggles at the surplus store, while I brought a navy wooly-pully (tactical sweater). There were two jokes to this whole situation:
1) we went through all of this (and this will explain the books as well) for Jayson's interest in Steampunk.
2) I finally got my wooly-pully, after searching since last November, in the middle of the summer!
Afterwards, we left, going to the CA-1, the spot of today's geohash. We ended up finding out the geohash is off limits, so Jayson and I just drove off. We ended up driving into Bonny Doon, what I told Jayson was mainly country with a few homes. Driving into the woods, and up into Bonny Doon, I warned Jayson that we have no cellphone signal, which was bad, since the iPhone actually saved our lives a few times--mainly since it had maps and I had a compass.
We were pretty much enchanted by the area; we enjoyed looking around the community, that I mentioned Jayson many times that we (Sean, him, and me) should get a house out here for when we all go to UCSC. We were pretty freaked out by the bus stops, and yes there were bus stops in the woods, buses to Santa Cruz.
We ended up parking (and the parking spots were basically dirt mounts off the road with parking signs) and walking into the woods, following a stream. It was pretty awesome, we have pictures that will be posted later.
After that adventure, we went downtown for pizza, only to end up finding an antique sale out in the street. There, we ended up finding a messenger bag for Jayson and I brought the book Song of the Sky. Then we met my friend Rafael, my limo driver to the airport at times, and he told Jayson about his work on ecofriendly limos, and his experience with old school sailboats and electric cars, which got both of them into a talk about steampunk when Rafael brought it up... I of course was a bit upset, since I was really into the machinery that Rafael brought up, and less about the fashion of it (though, I like it).
On a related note, Jayson and I earlier had an little debate on what steampunk needs today. He said it needed more punk and less Victorian Age. While I thought that it needed less punk, and a lot more TRUE historical accuracy-- namely less Victorian Age, and more Edwardian Age to WWI-- more electricity and practicality, and way less wearing gears and goth clothes.
Anyways, we later went to get pizza, and then walked to the lagoon and explored it. Yes, we have pictures. We later walked the railroad tracks nearby, only finding it lead us nowhere.
After all was said and done, I, as the navigator the whole time, briefed Jayson on how to get home and wished him good luck and hopefully he'll be back online to put the pics up.
[PS: I hated how Jayson made me be sober from liquor, smoking, and painkillers for this weekend for the adventure <<]
Saturday, June 7, 2008
Geohashing in Santa Cruz!
If anyone is familiar with the comic XKCD, then you probably know what Geohashing is. If not, read up on it. Its pretty interesting. And really fun.
I am currently in Santa Cruz visiting my buddy and co-author Edward at UCSC. Since I am here for an entire weekend, and since we are both avid fans of the XKCD comic series, its only natural that the two of us would trek into the wilderness and attempt to reach parts unknown.
But before the geohashing adventure there was much to do. The day began with a drive to the local Natural Bridges state beach, about a mile south of the college. Its a neat little beach and in the early morning hours on a weekend no one is interested in being there for any reason other than Yoga and Tai-Chi. Except for us. We wanted to explore. And so we did.
For future reference, there is an album of our escapade here.
I'm pretty burned out right now so I can't recall every little last detail, but heres a list of stuff we did.
-went to the beach
-climbed into the strange rock formation cave thingy
-looked at many indigenous sea creatures
-took pictures of said creatures
-climbed across a rocky ledge narrowly avoiding plummeting into a lake
-hiked back around the lake and into the woods
At one point when hiking through the woods we came across a strange recording device on the ground. We joked around about someone's last words being on the thing, but it didn't have a battery so at this point we have no clue what is on it.
We continued to hike back towards civilization, and it was after about half an hour of hiking that Edward realized we were waist deep in a thicket of Poison Oak. Thankfully though we hah been keeping our arms at our faces and had a lot of clothes on, so we were not affected. But it was pretty funny to think about.
We made it back to the car and then began to prepare for our trip. The coordinates of the geohash were in the middle of the San Francisco Bay (it was the best nearby option) and so we opted to plan to drive past it on a bridge and say that we did our best. The plan however was to head to an Apple Store, a 7-11, and use no GPS locater, in order to gain a few achievements above the mere geohasher. The problem is, we accidentally arrived at the geohash location, because we got lost. We made a wrong turn and ended up on the road to the bridge, rather than the Aple Store. We had a laugh at that. How we managed to ACCIDENTALLY arrive at our final destination, FIRST, is beyond me. But we did it, and it was fun.
Unfortunately we didn't take ANY pictures of that, because the area was so dreary that we had nothing to look at. But we were there, dammit.
We got lost on the way home, which was also funny, but using our super awesome Compass that we picked up at a Pawn Shop this morning, we were able to get back on the road and ended up at another Apple Store and then made it home.
I know we did more (eat, shop for hats, etc) but honestly I'm pretty tired so I will leave it at that.
I am currently in Santa Cruz visiting my buddy and co-author Edward at UCSC. Since I am here for an entire weekend, and since we are both avid fans of the XKCD comic series, its only natural that the two of us would trek into the wilderness and attempt to reach parts unknown.
But before the geohashing adventure there was much to do. The day began with a drive to the local Natural Bridges state beach, about a mile south of the college. Its a neat little beach and in the early morning hours on a weekend no one is interested in being there for any reason other than Yoga and Tai-Chi. Except for us. We wanted to explore. And so we did.
For future reference, there is an album of our escapade here.
I'm pretty burned out right now so I can't recall every little last detail, but heres a list of stuff we did.
-went to the beach
-climbed into the strange rock formation cave thingy
-looked at many indigenous sea creatures
-took pictures of said creatures
-climbed across a rocky ledge narrowly avoiding plummeting into a lake
-hiked back around the lake and into the woods
At one point when hiking through the woods we came across a strange recording device on the ground. We joked around about someone's last words being on the thing, but it didn't have a battery so at this point we have no clue what is on it.
We continued to hike back towards civilization, and it was after about half an hour of hiking that Edward realized we were waist deep in a thicket of Poison Oak. Thankfully though we hah been keeping our arms at our faces and had a lot of clothes on, so we were not affected. But it was pretty funny to think about.
We made it back to the car and then began to prepare for our trip. The coordinates of the geohash were in the middle of the San Francisco Bay (it was the best nearby option) and so we opted to plan to drive past it on a bridge and say that we did our best. The plan however was to head to an Apple Store, a 7-11, and use no GPS locater, in order to gain a few achievements above the mere geohasher. The problem is, we accidentally arrived at the geohash location, because we got lost. We made a wrong turn and ended up on the road to the bridge, rather than the Aple Store. We had a laugh at that. How we managed to ACCIDENTALLY arrive at our final destination, FIRST, is beyond me. But we did it, and it was fun.
Unfortunately we didn't take ANY pictures of that, because the area was so dreary that we had nothing to look at. But we were there, dammit.
We got lost on the way home, which was also funny, but using our super awesome Compass that we picked up at a Pawn Shop this morning, we were able to get back on the road and ended up at another Apple Store and then made it home.
I know we did more (eat, shop for hats, etc) but honestly I'm pretty tired so I will leave it at that.
Thursday, June 5, 2008
What do I treasure...
hmm... TREASURES ARE A BUNCH OF BULLSHIT!
Just kidding Jayson... to some extend. One must understand the way I live, I normally seek out practically and individual need/style first. To me, anything can be a treasure as long as it has a meaning to me. (This also explains why I can easily throw out something when it's no longer in use.)
However, this normally makes things I treasure less valuable than what one would recognize as actual treasure such as gold or other rare finds. I normally end up valuing memories and written words more than precious metals. By written words I mean anything for a letter to textbooks (ie science and math) to poetry to lit. In the end, the reason I consider these treasures is because I believe when we truly enjoyed a book, we end up making it a part of ourselves, that we fused the ideals and ideas we gained into our souls.
Nevertheless, there's items I treasure as well. However, for different reasons. First off, all the clothes I wear are treasures by default since they fit me, in size and lifestyle. I guess it's kind of like how in a video game, a character's personalized gear at times is considered a legendary item.
My legendary items are of course my iPhone, all my carbiners (or crap-binders), fitted jeans, collared shirts, and boots. You will always find them on my person, but why? Well, I think what makes them treasures is what I believe they are to me and what they stand for:
1. iPhone - a device that makes people envy or pity you basically. I personally gotten the device out of all the technological advancements, but as I soon learn there's a few flaws as well. Moreover, I got the iPhone not to impressed people, but to annoy people, since a lot of my friends were anti-iPhone/Mac (YES! THEY DESERVE TO DIE! AND I HOPE THEY BURN IN HELL, just kidding of course *supporter of Mac and Linux*). In the end, all of this made me design my iPhone to be a part of me. On it are all the applications I would ever need everyday, moreover, to many of my friends amusement, I found ways to convert it to an e-reader, a notepad, a flashlight, a video camera, a weapon at times, and other things. MY iPhone is a treasure to me not because it's an iPhone, but its become a symbol of resistance and multitasking-- unbreakable, has its pros and its cons, rebellious, and just damn right unbelievable at times-- sounds like anyone we know?
2. Carbiners/crap-binders - carbiners are those clips that were made for mountain climbing, being converted to use as a key holder for people whom need to carry a lot of keys, and recently became a sort of rebel fashion. The first time I really seen carbiners outside of my house (my father is a custodian, so he had many carbiners for work, and he gave me my first ones) was on a friend who was an emo punk. However, I used it less of a fashion statement... at least I think I did... and more for practicality. Nevertheless, that impression of working/rebel/failure-in-life that these pieces of metal seem to carry also attracted me to the heavy usage of them. The funny part is I call them crap-binders since I use them to hold basically what I consider crap to my person e.g. keys, wallet, papers, flashdrives, canteens, computer hardware, etc. This on top of my overall "I hate how I'm attached to the waist to crap" reflects my own philosophy of that we must work and carry a burden for our worth, that life is full of crap, but the more crap we can deal with, the better.
3. Fitted jeans - finding jeans that fit me is awesome, okay! That and they are boot-cut jeans too! What's more awesome than that? Skinny jeans that don't make you look preppy or emo, but like a working man.
4. Collared shirts - Collared shirts have existed for a long time. The collar itself always seemed to have a sense of mystery. It's used to hide faces, to reflect status, and most of all protect the neck. Now why I wear only collared shirts?! The answer is out of burden. As I mentioned, the collar is used to hide one's face at times and protect their neck, those are two reasons I always wear a collar, but also a collared shirt is the shirt of a uniform. Since senior year, I made this uniformed look ( think of like Steve Jobs), that I wore only collared shirts, the reason was I was always having to go to interviews, meetings, and other crap that required a sense of professionalism. Soon, I just started wearing collared shirts on days where there's no scheduled crap. In the end, this helped gave my "working appearance", that I am always working and that I will never rest till the job is done-- even if the job is hobby or pleasure. [On a side note: yes, even my night/sleeping clothes have collared shirts, this is however only for when I know I will be doing an all-nighter or working in my bedroom.]
5. Boots - I started wearing boots after high school; I actually brought my boots when I decided to go to UC Santa Cruz. The reason why now I wear only boots, not only because of the terrain, but because boots stand for something. Boots are the shoes of the fleeting, the charging, the young and adventurous-- and I really needed these qualities over the years to come... and I wished I had them before!
In closing, there you go guys, those are just a few of my treasures. I leave you with this though:
Just kidding Jayson... to some extend. One must understand the way I live, I normally seek out practically and individual need/style first. To me, anything can be a treasure as long as it has a meaning to me. (This also explains why I can easily throw out something when it's no longer in use.)
However, this normally makes things I treasure less valuable than what one would recognize as actual treasure such as gold or other rare finds. I normally end up valuing memories and written words more than precious metals. By written words I mean anything for a letter to textbooks (ie science and math) to poetry to lit. In the end, the reason I consider these treasures is because I believe when we truly enjoyed a book, we end up making it a part of ourselves, that we fused the ideals and ideas we gained into our souls.
Nevertheless, there's items I treasure as well. However, for different reasons. First off, all the clothes I wear are treasures by default since they fit me, in size and lifestyle. I guess it's kind of like how in a video game, a character's personalized gear at times is considered a legendary item.
My legendary items are of course my iPhone, all my carbiners (or crap-binders), fitted jeans, collared shirts, and boots. You will always find them on my person, but why? Well, I think what makes them treasures is what I believe they are to me and what they stand for:
1. iPhone - a device that makes people envy or pity you basically. I personally gotten the device out of all the technological advancements, but as I soon learn there's a few flaws as well. Moreover, I got the iPhone not to impressed people, but to annoy people, since a lot of my friends were anti-iPhone/Mac (YES! THEY DESERVE TO DIE! AND I HOPE THEY BURN IN HELL, just kidding of course *supporter of Mac and Linux*). In the end, all of this made me design my iPhone to be a part of me. On it are all the applications I would ever need everyday, moreover, to many of my friends amusement, I found ways to convert it to an e-reader, a notepad, a flashlight, a video camera, a weapon at times, and other things. MY iPhone is a treasure to me not because it's an iPhone, but its become a symbol of resistance and multitasking-- unbreakable, has its pros and its cons, rebellious, and just damn right unbelievable at times-- sounds like anyone we know?
2. Carbiners/crap-binders - carbiners are those clips that were made for mountain climbing, being converted to use as a key holder for people whom need to carry a lot of keys, and recently became a sort of rebel fashion. The first time I really seen carbiners outside of my house (my father is a custodian, so he had many carbiners for work, and he gave me my first ones) was on a friend who was an emo punk. However, I used it less of a fashion statement... at least I think I did... and more for practicality. Nevertheless, that impression of working/rebel/failure-in-life that these pieces of metal seem to carry also attracted me to the heavy usage of them. The funny part is I call them crap-binders since I use them to hold basically what I consider crap to my person e.g. keys, wallet, papers, flashdrives, canteens, computer hardware, etc. This on top of my overall "I hate how I'm attached to the waist to crap" reflects my own philosophy of that we must work and carry a burden for our worth, that life is full of crap, but the more crap we can deal with, the better.
3. Fitted jeans - finding jeans that fit me is awesome, okay! That and they are boot-cut jeans too! What's more awesome than that? Skinny jeans that don't make you look preppy or emo, but like a working man.
4. Collared shirts - Collared shirts have existed for a long time. The collar itself always seemed to have a sense of mystery. It's used to hide faces, to reflect status, and most of all protect the neck. Now why I wear only collared shirts?! The answer is out of burden. As I mentioned, the collar is used to hide one's face at times and protect their neck, those are two reasons I always wear a collar, but also a collared shirt is the shirt of a uniform. Since senior year, I made this uniformed look ( think of like Steve Jobs), that I wore only collared shirts, the reason was I was always having to go to interviews, meetings, and other crap that required a sense of professionalism. Soon, I just started wearing collared shirts on days where there's no scheduled crap. In the end, this helped gave my "working appearance", that I am always working and that I will never rest till the job is done-- even if the job is hobby or pleasure. [On a side note: yes, even my night/sleeping clothes have collared shirts, this is however only for when I know I will be doing an all-nighter or working in my bedroom.]
5. Boots - I started wearing boots after high school; I actually brought my boots when I decided to go to UC Santa Cruz. The reason why now I wear only boots, not only because of the terrain, but because boots stand for something. Boots are the shoes of the fleeting, the charging, the young and adventurous-- and I really needed these qualities over the years to come... and I wished I had them before!
In closing, there you go guys, those are just a few of my treasures. I leave you with this though:
so put your faith in more than steel
don't store your treasures up, with moth and rust
where thieves break in and steal
Monday, June 2, 2008
You found that where?
Today I went dumpster diving.
I found myself utterly mystified at what ended up being left in this dumpster. Among the trash and the hundreds of VHS tapes, there were a pair of nearly new blue jeans, a few shirts, and other clothing that easily could have been donated to the local thrift store or salvation army.
My brother thinks I'm crazy for pulling clothes out of a dumpster, but after running them through the wash they will look good as new, and I guarantee you no one will be the wiser as to where they came from.
My hope was to find old mechanical items that I could deface and make into other things such as Steampunk Jewelry, (see my favorites; {1} {2} {3} {4}) but I started far too late and I lost daylight before I could sift deep enough below the many layers of VHS tapes.
They say one mans trash is another man's treasure. I wouldn't call clothing treasure, but its certainly something I can use that would be better served on me than in a landfill.
I found myself utterly mystified at what ended up being left in this dumpster. Among the trash and the hundreds of VHS tapes, there were a pair of nearly new blue jeans, a few shirts, and other clothing that easily could have been donated to the local thrift store or salvation army.
My brother thinks I'm crazy for pulling clothes out of a dumpster, but after running them through the wash they will look good as new, and I guarantee you no one will be the wiser as to where they came from.
My hope was to find old mechanical items that I could deface and make into other things such as Steampunk Jewelry, (see my favorites; {1} {2} {3} {4}) but I started far too late and I lost daylight before I could sift deep enough below the many layers of VHS tapes.
They say one mans trash is another man's treasure. I wouldn't call clothing treasure, but its certainly something I can use that would be better served on me than in a landfill.
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