Time is always against us.

I realize I've been posting about video games a lot lately, and I'd apologize for infecting the minds of the two people reading this with my dorkiness, but I don't give a crap. Quite frankly at my age when you've had this hobby as long as I have, you learn to ignore the derision of others. Many of the same people who put down video games one second, will spend hours keeping up with the latest celebrity gossip or sporting event. The fact that my hobby doesn't line up with mainstream society's expectations means virtually nothing to me.

Now that I've turned at least one of the two people reading this with my negativity, it's time to talk about the main subject of this post: video games. I have far too many of them. There are far too many games I haven't finished because I picked up whatever new software was available. Here's the stuff I need to finish up some time:

Final Fantasy X-2: Three scantily-clad women can't hide the fact that this game just plain sucks, but I still need to play back through some time and get the "good" ending.

Final Fantasy Tactics: For some reason instead of just continuing I put down this game about a year ago when I couldn't decide how to develop my party and I haven't picked it up since. It's way too awesome for me not to finish up though.

Pikmin 2: While it's definitely a good game, it's just not my cup of tea. I need to either sell it or finish up.

Super Mario 64 DS: It's been so long I forgot how far I am from completing this game.

Metal Gear Solid 3: Subsistence: I just bought this, but already I can see myself not playing it for weeks, putting it off in favor of Gradius V and Tetris DS.

Devil May Cry: This game completely and utterly rocks, but I rented it, played through it, bought it, and never played it again.

Devil May Cry 3: **** this game. I shouldn't have to spend hours leveling up just to pass the third level and those bastards at Capcom had the nerve to announce an easier, special edition at half the price I paid for the original. Devil May Cry 3 can die of gonorrhea and rot in hell.

Kingdom Hearts: Since there's a sequel now with a decent camera, I guess I should finish the original so I can play it. I just have to get past that atrocious camera.

Mario Kart DS: I still haven't unlocked everything on this game and have yet to even play one online match.

Mario Kart: Double Dash!!: Same deal, except for the online thing.

Street Fighter Anniversary Collection: As addicted as I am to this game, I STILL haven't unlocked Gill on Third Strike, nor have I mastered using a joystick. Yet.

There are several games I've been meaning to play back through too including Metroid Prime 2, Super Mario Sunshine, Chrono Cross, Panzer Dragoon Orta, and Sonic CD. *sigh*

You're not an ordinary fella!

When you take up a hobby, there are certain moments, milestones if you will, where you go from conventional enthusiast to full-on fanaticism. I think I've arrived at such a moment. The hobby in question? Dance Dance Revolution. I know a lot of you are thinking "So when are you coming out of the closet?" How about some time around "kiss my ass"? That sounds like a good time of the year.

Anyway, if you've seen people play the game at an arcade (which there are far too few of these days), you know the game involves stepping on arrows on a metal platform. For home versions of the game, that metallic pad takes on many forms, each with varying chances of causing you to bust your head open on furniture. Most people use the "soft pads", which must be played barefoot. Those work well enough for beginners, but once you get to the higher levels of play (which cause you to look like a total spaz), the pad slips around way too much to be effective. Next up is the ignition pad, formerly my personal fave. Those use a foam insert to give you better stability and higher durability just when most people go back to trying to get laid.

Undoubtedly the highest quality pads are the metal pads, which come the closest to simulating the arcade experience minus the crowd of people laughing at you. Of course, they're also the most expensive. My last ignition pad gave out on me after only a few short months of play. So now I must make a choice: pick up another ignition pad ($100) or go for the gold standard in metal dance pads and shell out 300 bucks? What's worse is I want to pick up TWO of them! I intend to spend the same amount of money it takes to conquer Yemen on my obssession. Have I crossed over from passive participant to hardcore hobbyist to demented maniac?

It's possible I was already there anyway. After all, I've already spent $110 modding my PS2 to play the Japanese version of DDR, bought a total of eight different editions of the game, and spent a couple hundred dollars on my previous pads. The main difference between me and those kids who bring a towel to the arcade is that I'm just too self-conscious (or wimpy) to do that.

I think I already know the answer to this.

Teacher's Pet

Do you remember those kids in school that were incredibly well-behaved, kissing the teacher's ass whenever the chance arose? The ones who knew the answers to everything and never got into trouble? I was one of the worst in elementary school.

I believe it began in second grade. That's when I first remember being recognized for my good grades and behavior. The recognition felt great. Acceptance and approval feels wonderful no matter how old you are. From the first time I experienced that feeling, I craved it. I wanted to please my superiors and doing so came easily to me. I cringed at the thought of disappointing my teachers, principal, or any other authority figure in my life. Naturally I was puzzled when I later realized I had no friends. I was pretty much Lisa Simpson (except I was a boy and not self-righteous. And black).

This continued until late in junior high. I think part of me knew back then that an adult could make my life far more miserable than another kid ever could (unless that kid was my big brother, but that's for another entry). Of course, it didn't really stop. It just tapered off quite a bit. I progressed from being a nerdy kid who kissed up to teachers to a dorky kid who made lame jokes that only him and his other dorky friends laughed at. As you can imagine, it was a sad time in my life.

Even now, I feel an unusual need to appease authority figures, even ones who don't have any real power over me. My counselor at school never judges my actions and doesn't criticize me, yet I'm always worried about disappointing him. I'm actually happy when he applauds my improvements.

There's no real point here. I seem to have a need to get people to like me until I decide I definitely don't like them. Not exactly my best trait (pretty damn insecure to be honest), but it's there nonetheless.

You need some practice.

Gradius V is a strange creature. It lures me with its luscious visuals and intense action, but punishes me by throwing everything but the kitchen sink my way. The very thing that makes this elusive beast so desirable also makes it infuriating.

The side-scrolling shooter is an archaic genre, virtually dead except for one to two releases a year. It's not surprising. The early days of video games in the 80's and 90's extracted almost every possible unique idea one could conceive of. To my knowledge, there's nothing particularly noteworthy about Gradius V beyond: 1. It's a game in a genre past its prime and 2. It kicks ass. Ironically, the game's technical prowess stands in stark contrast with the limitations of the gameplay. For instance, the fact that you can't orient your ship however you like can be quite maddening. I'm no psychic but I'd imagine that when we master space travel enough to launch warships even the most pedestrian vehicle will be capable of turning around to aim at something behind it. Instead, the player must choose between several weapon systems, some of which allow a tailgun in exchange for some other functionality.

These sort of tradeoffs seem unfair to the casual observer. Why can't I rotate my ship? Why can't I adjust my velocity? Hardcore enthusiasts eat this stuff up though. The limitations of your movement and firing are part of the fun and the designers of the game didn't work around them, they worked against them! So enemies will fly at you from angles that aren't convenient and you will have deal with awkward situations. It's the challenge that keeps me coming back.

And man is it a challenge. I have yet to make it halfway through the game before I run out of continues on the easiest setting.

Go buy yourself a bouncing car!

Man, 2005 sucked. For the rest of the world, that is. I was flipping through Time magazine while waiting to get a prescription filled yesterday. The cover article was the best photos of 2005. Talk about a downer. All of the pictures were of the grief and suffering in the world. The tsunami aftermath, the earthquake in Pakistan, Hurricane Katrina, the war in Iraq, the terrorist bombings in England, the pope's death, and several other tramatic events were on display. The only remotely light-hearted picture featured Michael Jackson going to court in his pajamas. Great, so the best feeling I can muster when reflecting on last year involves an accused child molester in his pajamas.

But all that is trivial in the wake of my current subject: the continued existence of the term "bling-bling". Shouldn't there be some sort of government intervention at this point? When abhorrent slang becomes so widespread that we have Barbie dressed like a damn prostitute, someone should speak up. It's ludicrous how far it's reached in our culture.

Let's take a closer look at the word. For those of you who have been living under a rock (the lucky people), bling-bling refers to any expensive clothing, accessory, or material meant to show off how much cash you have. That includes jewelry, watches, rims, or designer suits. Why, why, WHY is it the 21st century and we still haven't learned the age-old maxim that materialism is shallow? Are popular culture and the economy being run by dumb-ass teenagers?

And then there's its origin. As far as I can tell, "bling-bling" emerged from hip-hop culture around the beginning of the century. That was certainly an excellent source for a cultural trend given hip-hop culture's other brilliant ideas like shooting people, smacking women, and dealing drugs. Don't get me wrong. Plenty of rap songs have deeper messages calling for political and social change throughout America and the world. Unfortunately those songs rarely achieve any sort of popularity.

Then there's the term itself. It's the same word twice! How stupidly unimaginative is that? Given the sort of people who use it, I guess it's the only way they'll remember it. Do you know another word commonly used twice? Jar. As in Jar Jar. One of the worst characters in cinema history who singlehandedly tarnished the most profitable film saga ever also shares this deplorable trait. Coincidence? By the way, I'm sure some of you might be thinking of former UN secretary-general Boutros Boutros-Ghali. Let me assure you he's the exception, not the rule. But keep an eye for his son, Dakas Dakas-Geewhiz.

I'll admit that I have a bit of the materialism thing going on. My car's equipped with a fairly high-end sound system, my home theater system is a decent mid-range setup, and I love showing off my high-definition television. However, the items I own bring some semblance of value beyond the showing up the loser next to me, otherwise I'd blast my sound systems 24/7 and I'd pick up a bigger television instead of the relatively small 32 inches I'm happy with now.

I leave you with a warning. Don't use this term in my presence. Ever. I am past the point where I can even laugh at people mocking it. If you say it directly to me, I'm going to grab the nearest sharp object and start stabbing until my arm gives out.

Fun times at Ocean Isle.

This week is spring break at NC State, so I decided to take two days off work to head to the beach. It’s still too chilly to get a peak at the tanned bodies and taut stomachs typically associated with this tradition, but I spent it in the company of some very cool and fun people, so it’s all good. After a three hour drive, I arrived at Cinelli’s, the Italian restaurant where my pal Jason works. We preceeded to his house that’s a few short blocks from the beach. This is your classic, party-hard, bachelor pad with relatively clean furniture that contrasts starkly with worn walls and deteriorated wood. An ungodly number of beer cans can be found in the trash as well, a foreshadowing of things to come.

That Friday night Jason invited a few women over and then forced me to play DDR in front of them. My fault for bringing the damn thing I guess. Nevertheless I impressed the ladies quite a bit despite being incredibly drunk. Jason frequently complains that I never move my arms when I play the game, which is somewhat true. The problem is that he does and looks like a complete spaz doing so. So I'll cling to that little shred of dignity, thank you. :-P

After passing out around 3 AM, I woke up around the noon Saturday and decided to take a jog. Passing by many a pleasant looking house, I could really appreciate what a nice neighborhood this was. Clean streets and clear skies complemented the well-maintained exteriors of the homes. I also noticed a dearth of minorities in the area. Although everyone was friendly enough, I can only imagine their surprise upon seeing a black man casually jogging down their streets. The run was an absolute necessity given the reckless way I abandoned every good eating habit I'd developed.

Jason and the rest of our pals had to work that day, so I was left to my own devices. Thanks to some unsecured wireless Internet, I was able to get online and chat with a few people. The rest of my time was spent playing video games during which I realized the obvious: Mario Kart DS rocks. Around 11 PM we headed to the local bar, Salty's, and enjoyed a few drinks with some of his co-workers. Afterwards we chilled at the house and discussed all the crazy shit going on in our lives, which is a lot more than I'd like to think about.


Sunday afternoon I got to play golf for the first time ever. On the golf course, I discovered why so many people are fascinated by this sport. It's frigging hard. Just hitting the ball is something of a small miracle, much less getting it to go anywhere. Pro golfers consistently hit the ball every time (I think, I'll be damned if I'm ever watching golf) and actually it into the air, probably due to some sort of voodoo. In the picture you can see me attempting to hit the ball for the 20th time on the first hole. Near the front of the picture is Eric, a really cool guy from Boston who joined us for the game along with his girlfriend Angela, who took the picture. I also managed to snap some pictures of some geese near a pond, check it out:

That night we sat around and drank some more (see a pattern here?) and I passed out "early" at 1 AM. The next day we all chilled at another friend's house. While we were there Jason was upset that he missed the Oscars the previous night because he "wanted to see what everyone was wearing." Interesting. Anyway, a lady named Karen stopped by for a poker tournament they were having later that night. She was completely trashed, despite the fact it was only 5 in the afternoon (these people know how to party). She also didn't remember my name despite the fact she kissed me on New Year's no less than three months ago. We later headed to the mall where I found a copy of Gradius V, a kick-ass scrolling shooter by Treasure, the gods of hardcore 2D gaming.

Finally we chilled a little bit more at Jason's place and shared where our lives were headed. I told him I was concerned about all the alcohol and various other substances he had injested that weekend. While that's not much different from the average local we encountered, it's still something to watch. And while I did absolutely nothing to deter that behavior, all the drinking we did that weekend seems like every day for him. All I can do is express my concern and pray for the best.

Before I left the next afternoon, we went out for lunch. There I witnessed an exchange between a married man and a pretty woman that was priceless. I can't recall exactly what I heard, but the whole conversation had the kind of hometown charm that the best writers in Hollywood couldn't recreate if they tried.

Overall, I had a great weekend. My feet never touched the sand of the beach, much less the water, but it's the best time I've had in awhile. But good company came make anything a blast.

Going the distance.

Throughout grade school a long-standing tradition was "running the mile" in PE class. This dreaded activity measured each student's physical fitness by timing their run. As an aside, I always found it mysterious that running the mile took, in the worst cases, about 20 minutes yet it always seemed to take up an entire 50-minute class period. Strange. Anyhoo, I hated the activity as much as anyone especially since it typically brought physical condition (which was equivalent to that of a sloth) to the forefront of my mind. I believe the best time I managed was 9:26 in fourth grade.

So it was surprisingly satisfying yesterday when I jogged approximately two miles without slowing down to walk. The run wasn't timed, but I think the first mile was below eight minutes! Equally surprising is the fact that I actually went outside by choice. Freakish NC weather, in which the high temperature can be in the 30's one day and in the 60's the next, inspired me to get out of the house. Could this be the start of a new trend?