Sunday, September 28, 2008

I was supposed to blog about clouds...

...but since I'm too twitchy and my attention span today is of the same level as a fly's, I'll just post some pics taken during the GH trip earlier today, only because its more interesting for me now that I'm on land and no longer being buffeted by rain clouds that never fail to make Christians out of atheists 28,000 feet up in the air.

Yep, you saw it right. Super Smash Bros. Brawl running on a Sony PSone. The idea of playing Brawl during travel is cool. With this development it looks like I don't have to wait for at least ten years until someone comes up with a Wii emulator for the PSP-10000.

Now unless you've got a parsnip for a brain you'd actually believe me and not even take into account that the pilot light below the console's switch is turned off.

The two opposite extremes of manliness: Gears of War's Marcus Fenix versus our beloved Fabulous-kun. I'm not saying that Itsuki is less of a man than the potty mouth who wields a chainsaw welded on a gun; Itsuki belongs to that same category of manly that Edgeworth belongs to. Marcus Fenix sorely needs to visit Belo. Fabulous-kun, on the other hand...goddamn.

A Super Mario Bros. Furuta Chocolate Egg that we spotted in the same store we bought Marcus Fenix and Fabulous-kun. I was tempted to get the whole set, but seeing that the box that I got contained a square egg of FAIL I was momentarily glad that I didn't. Then I realized that the chocolate doesn't matter, and I didn't even like how it tasted anyway.
Ryan holding the dismal-looking chocolate "egg" and Hi, I'm Daisy! Hi, I'm Daisy! Hi, I'm Daisy! Hi, I'm Daisy! Hi, I'm Daisy! Hi, I'm Daisy! Hi, I'm Daisy! Hi, I'm Daisy! Hi, I'm Daisy! Hi, I'm Daisy! Hi, I'm Daisy! Hi, I'm Daisy! Hi, I'm Daisy! Hi, I'm Daisy! Hi, I'm Daisy! Hi, I'm Daisy! 

Sunday, September 21, 2008

Not again, L.


Someone introduced me to that emote, and I'm going to use it on you, L.


You may have forgotten what I told you, a couple of years ago, but since you matter a lot to me I'll just go ahead and c/p them here (with some revisions).
They’re not worth losing your sanity or ideals. I know you love her, she may have love/d you, but not enough. You can go and off yourself, but nothing would change. The world turns, but will not cry for you. You snooze (forever), you lose.
Go read more Murakamis and listen to The Smiths for weird dreams. Weird dreams are always entertaining, yes?

Friday, September 19, 2008

Sometimes: The Zombie Apocalypse Edition

Needlessly stupid, inane, idiotic and other permutations of those words.

But that pretty much sums up most instances of romantic love.

Wednesday, September 17, 2008

Twilight ravishings and midnight mishaps.

1. It's been a while since I last used that post title. It's too bad that the original post I used it on already went into Information Highway limbo when my first blog, an early adopter account on Free Open Diary, was deleted due to my failure to log in for several months in a row.

I would love to indulge myself in another bout of nostalgia - feh, I feel so old already - but I can't right now. I couldn't. I'm now reverting to my old habit of staying up late until the sun's rays break out of the dark sky, writing furiously until I feel too light-headed. Or cramming, as most other people would say.

It's hard for me to write, really. The few people who know of my writing habits may have noticed that I don't churn out prose as readily as most other people who indulge in writing as a hobby, or as a cathartic outlet (I would have shortened that last phrase by using the word "writers", but I refuse to use that title lightly - I couldn't even consider myself worthy of being called a writer, yet. Journalist, yes; writer, no).

I write when an idea falls on my lap, an idea that I find fascinating enough to explore and even play with. My muse, if even have one, wouldn't settle for anything that is not unusual. If he were a living, breathing person, my muse would be often found in ukay-ukay stalls or in the middle of the Divisoria jungles in pursuit of that one. Idea.

Or just about anything that catches his whim.

The one I'm writing about right now isn't as strange or less commonplace, however.
His dream was simple. His dream was to fuck as many women as he wanted before his penis falls off, and he also wanted to drink booze enough to poison two people, before his liver shrivels up and goes to hell ahead the rest of his body.

After much thought and careful planning, the man known as Mr. Mascot decided that [REDACTED], the leader of the local polygamist sect well known for its 1:100 ratio of men to women and its infamous rapid consumption of alcohol, was the key to make his dream a reality.
Disclaimer: Names currently used are placeholders. I'm not going to even explain the premise of my story - just that I'm not one to write tales that are fabricated purely to deliver a saccharine-sweet ending, or give readers (if my prose even gets read) stories that spew out happy, warm feelings of fullness that tickle their insides and make them full of hope towards humanity and the future.

In other words, I fucking hate Hallmark and Chicken Soup for the Soul-type of anecdotes, as well as the drivel that gets forwarded into office email accounts every day. How trite can you actually go?

That is not to say that I prefer writing cut cut stab stab stories (sing along with me now: WHEN I WAS), death and bleeding hearts and RRRRAAAAAAGE, or about characters who have the penchant of wearing black cowls tattered on the, not really.

I just want to play out what-if scenarios in my head, and some of them enchant me enough to spend hours after midnight to write, write and write at the cost of missing out on daytime fun because of my noctural writing habits.

...and I forget the point of this particular post. All I wanted to say is that I'm currently cramming several midnights in a row writing this idea in my head. Crap, I got distracted again.

(I can write several pages, thousands or millions of white sheets of paper stacked way up high to the heavens, but I can never call myself a writer. I can enumerate several writers' names, one of them is yours, but none of those names is mine.)

2. Public establishments here in the province have started playing Christmas Jingles ever since September rolled in. It doesn't bother me, and strange as it may be, it never fails to put that familiar fluttery feeling inside me that filled me up every time I anticipated the holidays as a child.

Christmas may be besmirched with capitalism and shades of materialistic greed nowadays, but it will always be that magical time of the year for me. And when I have my own family, I will make sure that my kids will feel the same about the holidays.

Let's not get started about its forgotten religious significance, please.

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

Memories, both cherished and raped.

1. I miss the house I grew up in.

My family once lived in the idyllic military base in Sangley Point, when my father still served the Philippine Navy. We occupied one of the houses in residential area, impersonally referred to in military parlance as "quarters." The term made the place sound as if it was bare, with spartan furnishings and pristine white walls cracked with age and smelling of a military officer's aftershave.

I called it my home, and it was far from being mere "quarters" or a housing unit. My home. Or at least, was.

I could still vividly recall the days when I would invite classmates over in that house and they'll always say the same thing each time they visit: that they floor is so shiny and clean they could practically see their reflections on it (the floor was actually made of some kind of linoleum shined to a sparkle with Pronto). I myself had a habit of sleeping on the bare floor because its cooler that way. XD

Our house in Sangley Point managed to stay beautiful while we still lived there; while my brother stayed up late in its living room playing SNES/3D0/PSone games, while I rolled around the cool floor in slumber, while our eldest brother hid himself in the living room having a long chat over the phone with his steady girlfriend (now his wife).

Fast forward several years later. My father finally had to retire and turned over the old house to its next occupant, and we started moving from one apartment to another. My parents at this point already had their own house in the province, where they're now starting to spend the remainder of their years.

We eventually found a permanent place to stay in Manila, and I've recently taken over the responsibilities in running that particular household. My eldest brother already has his own digs somewhere in Cavite with his own family, while second eldest is working abroad and is slated to inherit the provincial house.

We can't help but look back at that special house where we spent our childhood, however, where I spent my first twenty years of my life. I still remember its rather ominous-looking stairwell, which creeped me out so much as a child that I ran up and down the stairs as a habit (the shorter the time I spent there, the better). I still remember my old room with pastel-pink walls, which showed its original white color where the paint has peeled off.

I still remember waking up in certain stormy mornings to find the living room somehow decided played host to minnows and guppies and rats swimming in five inches of water, without our express consent.

I remember fishing out a handful of letters from an almost forgotten desk sitting in my old room, one which my parents gave me since I was six years old. Those letters were from friends long gone, and some from past loves, and some from my ex-bestfriend whose amorous intentions I had rejected--I remember smiling as I opened them again. It has been years since I've last read them. Those were indeed the days.

I could only sigh since I know it's all in the past. I haven't talked with either of them for a few years already. I don't even plan to; I'm already content with my life, and my love, and I don't have to rummage into the past again to make me complete.

I just feel that I don't have to, in the same manner that I don't feel inclined to visit that old house.

But I still miss those days, and I still miss that special place where I grew up in.

2. Here's Piccolo in the upcoming truckload of fail, the Hollywood Dragonball movie. It's just amazing how some people find it in their hearts to desecrate a much-beloved cultural phenomenon, really.

James Marsden, I think. But I really think their take on Piccolo is not bad. It could be worse, like the guy they cast as Goku. Nothing could be worse as a white kid cast as Goku. Makes me go FFFFFFFFFFFFF...grah.

3. Thanks to a guide I found in DS Fanboy, I finally managed to figure out how to get NeoDS working. Words can't really express how elated I am now that I can play my much-loved fighting games in a portable device. Slowpoke.jpg, yadda yadda yadda.

King of Fighters '97 running on my crimson/black DS. <3>

If my 12-year younger self were to find a way to get her hands on a handheld gaming device that would let her play arcade-perfect renditions of her beloved King of Fighters games, sans the loading times that plagued the PlayStation console versions, suffice it to say that she would succumb to a state of ecstasy that would rival Saint Therese's.

(It's way better than saying getting a nerdgasm, but hey.)

I'm sorry Ryan, but all arcade versions of Metal Slug can run in my DS perfectly. And oh, Last Blade 2 as well. You can go weep now.

...but I miss you terribly, and that sucks :/

Friday, September 5, 2008

More Ragnarok Online DS screens

If you read this blog, you probably are familiar with Ragnarok Online. And if you managed to come across my post concerning the first scans of Ragnarok Online DS, you may also be saving up to buy the handheld just in time for the game's Japanese release.

Famitsu's online site just released a fresh new batch of Ragnarok Online DS screenshots , and suffice it to say that the game looks good, so far. But I think I'm only biased towards the franchise; if I didn't know RO beforehand much less waste years of my life in the game in the past I probably would have chalked this game as one of them Japanese RPG titles (barring that fact that it's based on a Korean MMO) with the usual pixelly sprites.

But enough talk, check out the screenshots and marvel how GungHo took care to preserve the well-loved original Ragnarok Online user interface.

Ragnarok Online DS makes good use of the DS's dual-screen functionality, while still keeping the old RO flavor. This may be the only time when I consider recycling sprites as a very good decision.

Magic spells are cast by encircling your intended area of effect. A very nice touch, and I thank Squeenix's The World Ends With You for innovating that idea. See, Square Enix, you're better off creating original, new IPs.

The knight looks like it's solving a puzzle, but I'm not paying attention to that. I'm just focused on the awesome headgear, and I hope that ALL the items available in the original Ragnarok Online for the PC are included in the DS version.

Wednesday, September 3, 2008

Idle hands are the devil's playthings.

Or: It's hard being productive nowadays.
Him: And dissidia! XD
Me: I'm not sure about Dissidia, it looks like a flashy PS1 fighting game with improved graphics Eretzvaju/Evil Zone and the obscure others whose titles I forgot
Me: slapped only with FF characters XD
Him: Well, it looks more like Psychic Force 2020
Him: But it looks cool :<
Me: yeah, Psychic Force
Me: it does look cool, but Dissidia won't elicit a FUCK YEAH BRAWL reaction out of me
Me: Castlevania Judgment and Dissidia are on the same level, in my books. Sorry, fanboys.
Him: What. XD
Him: You like Brawl because Squirtle's innit D:<
Me: and Snake
Him: If Dissidia had like a Squirtle summon you'd like it too!
Me: Me: anything that had a touch of Final Fantasy to it?
Him: Or a Squirtle-cula in Castlevania Judgement!
Me: merits a -1 to me.
Me: seriously, that franchise is milked out.
Him: Yeah, I know. I was just kidding.
Me: I mean, yeah, Squeenix is doing a great job with their FFs
Me: but I'll be even happier if they used their time rehashing the many Final Fantasies in churning out originals. Like Sigma Harmonics. WHERES MY GODDAMN SIGMA HARMONICS
Him: D:
Me: how many Final Fantasies will they spend their time on?
Him: As many as they waaaaaaaaaaaaant
Me: *gurgle*
Me: I miss the PS1 era. That was a great time when most gaems were new.
Me: XD
Him: XD
Him: Nostalgia! X3
Me: not really nostalgia. Did you own a PS1 before the later consoles were around, like the PS2?
Him: Of course!
Him: I remember using it as a fuck buddy.
We were innocent, once.