In my quest to better understand you humans and more accurately emulate your behavior, I have come across one question that has long stumped me. What separates a child from an adult? It’s a more difficult question than it sounds. My original data seemed to indicate two distinct groups: kids and adults; and telling them apart was easy. An unexplainable transformation clearly took place at some point, turning kids into adults by turning them big and boring and making them care more about work than play. The exact process was a mystery, of course, but the logic was sound and
Author: scwiba
Jia Jiang, You Beautiful Man
I had a bad day today. Nothing earth-shattering. No tragedy or illness, and I’m thankful for that. I’m in a weird position, though, knowing that other people out there –people I know personally and respect, even — are having real, concrete, profound troubles right now, and it’s hard not to feel like a drama queen for complaining about a bad day. A friend suggested rejection therapy as a way of combating some of the problems contributing to my Chronic Bad Day Syndrome. (Is it just me or does the term “rejection therapy” sound really dire? Can we come up with
Deare Shakespeare
Sir William — Though ‘t be but pitiful mockery, I do In semblance of thy tongue address thee: Thou surely knowst my love for thee; All curses upon thy name uttered of late In heart of imprudence. Yet, hark — for others inquire in earnest: Sons and daughters of this, the Digital Age — They hath no remembrance of thee; or else decry thy “relevance” And hold as common relics thy work. But peace! Thy canon is great, ’tis certainty. Yet must I with pain admit: disquiet akin to this Have I voiced in weakness, among trusted allies: “Thousands of
After the Storm
There’s a graveyard of rotting machinery in the woods behind my house: forgotten tractors, decrepit digging equipment, and the skeletons of ancient cars, half-sunken in the earth. I go there, after the storm, to watch them decay a little more — bit by bit, paint chip by paint chip, molecule by molecule. Every year, they crumble a touch more, sink an finger deeper. It’s always fascinated me — this place in winter: the rich, earthy brown of mechanical husks against the pure white of snow. These contraptions that, once upon a time, sputtered and roared with unnatural noise, that lurched
To Facebook or Not to Facebook
Presently, this is my great dilemma. More accurately, actually, my struggle is whether I should quit Facebook or not, but “To Quit Facebook or Not to Quit Facebook” wasn’t as catchy a title. A friend of mine has already written a much more eloquent post on this subject, and if the title doesn’t give it away, he went with the second option. (Also, since he will undoubtedly notice the pingback (or whatever it’s called) from this post and since he wasn’t aware of this blog previously: Hello, Mr. Watson. Yes, it is I.) Where was I? Right — I think,
This Unit Requires a Recharge
Dear diary blog blogary dialog …bliary? I give up. Dear guys, I pulled an all-nighter last night to finish a project, then I dragged myself around campus for about ten hours between classes and club stuff. Is it possible for me to get away with only posting a couple pretty pictures tonight and leaving the words for later? I can’t seem to find many words right now. Where did I leave them? Could they be hiding in my bed? Will definitely have to check there. Could take a while…
In Which I Return to the First Grade
Over the weekend, I took a break from the rigors of college to get grilled on something even more challenging: first grade sentence completion and math equations. I had a pretty tough teacher but I think I did well, all things considered. Did I mention my niece is one of my favoritest people in the world?
How to Make Me Squeal With Joy
At the risk of turning this blog into a place where I just repost updates on upcoming games, I feel compelled to mention this… https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R9hQWqtxXPU If you’ve ever wondered what happiness looks like, here it is. Okay, it may just be me as an old PC gamer, but watching this video gave me goosebumps and a fluttering in my chest. It made my day, my week, my month maybe. “Don’t be silly,” you say, but I can’t help it. This is a game steeped in all sorts of oldschool sensibilities; sensibilities from a time when I was just cutting my
The Witcher 3! Exclamation Point!
Game Informer has informed us (Ha ha! Do you see what I did there? Surely I am the first to think of that clever wordplay.) that The Witcher 3 is like… a real thing. I guess we already knew that, but now we’ve got screenshots to prove it, plus some (likely overblown) claims about what the game is actually going to play like. Now, CDProjekt Red often likes to claim they’re innovating. Usually, they’re not. Just making really stellar, finely crafted RPGs, and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that. If they hold to the mission statement of bringing their unique
Where’s My Cranial GPS Already?
I drove down to Boston yesterday. Not because I actually meant to, mind. I just ended up in Boston somehow. It’s a bit of a joke in my family how bad my sense of direction is. This is entirely justified fun-poking. It’s not unheard of that I’ve been heading for one destination only to end up driving thirty miles in the opposite direction. My mummy would probably blame this on videogames — which may actually have some truth to it this time. I think they’ve dulled what should be my natural ability to navigate 3D space. I can find my