Lockworld

listening to "Sick Puppies - You

Wed, 16 Jun 2010 17:09:44 -0600

It’s been a long time coming and the tables’ turned around cause one of us is goin’…down. “You’re Going Down” by Sick Puppies.

Yuki Hsu singing Bananarama’s “Hey Hey...

Thu, 06 May 2010 17:00:46 -0600

Yuki Hsu singing Bananarama’s “Hey Hey Goodbye” in Chinese.

27 Reasons I Prefer Twitter to Real Life

Tue, 30 Mar 2010 09:38:11 -0600

I made a joke a few weeks about something being the 27th reason I prefer Twitter to real life. Unfortunately, I was called out and asked for the other 26 reasons. So I figured, what better way to celebrate 1,000 tweets than to give everyone all 27 reasons. So here they are, in no particular order:

You can live vicariously through others while they try to live vicariously through you.
It’s the only place guys like me can actually “talk” to strippers and porn stars.
Who needs to go out on a Friday night, anyway?
Passive aggressive. ‘Nuff said.
Don’t have friends? Get a spam-bot to follow you. It’s close enough to the real thing.
What else are you going to do? Facebook? Hahahahahahaha.
140 characters isn’t too much to type with your OTHER hand.
Where else can you get yourself a Twitter-wife? http://bit.ly/dsOxFj
The girls you meet in real life are probably lesbians anyway. On Twitter, some pretend to be straight. (Not many, mind, but I’m sure there are some, somewhere)
‘Cause people talk about the stuff that really matters: Bacon, coffee, boobs, sex, poop, zombies.
You can get anyone’s tweets sent to your phone via text message, which goes a long way towards making you look like you’re actually important.
A little Twitter each day helps keep the lonely at bay.
It’s just assumed that you have issues. You don’t have to make excuses or pretend to be normal here.
You’re sure to find people you’ve never met in real life who care more about you than those you have.
‘Cause “Send me your poor, your tired, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free” is more true of Twitter than the USA.
You’ll fit right in. “Meh” is kind of a thing, here.
Someone’s always around to talk to (or at least to talk at).
People only talk about the most important things in life: http://bit.ly/cvkbZt
If you’re not having sex, at least you can be not having sex with plenty of other people.
Only on Twitter will you be admired for being drunk on the couch in your underwear on a Wednesday morning.
Where else do you have a chance to force your own childhood memories down someone else’s throat? http://bit.ly/debM7Y
We use drugs, just like the cool kids do. ‘Course, for most of us, that means Ambien or coffee. Or both.
I’d rather have followers than friends. Any day. (*Note: See #24)
If I can’t have real friends, I’ll settle for followers. (*Note: See #23)
Shameless self promotion. It’s a thing these days.
You never know how well it might turn out: http://bit.ly/dmUZ1j
People actually tell you where you’ve gone wrong.

Fear the wrath of the toy-gods

Thu, 25 Mar 2010 22:53:00 -0600

My family has a long and frightening history with possessed children’s toys. Seriously. I wish I could make this stuff up, but I’m not.

It all started about four or five years ago. My daughter had a lights-and-sounds play table that she loved to play with. It sang songs, made noises, you know the kind I’m talking about. She played with it every day. One night, after my wife and I had put our daughter to bed (upstairs), we thought we heard her voice coming from downstairs. Thinking we must have left a baby-monitor on, we went right to her bedroom and peeked in. Sound asleep. Not making a sound. Strange, we thought. Must be our imagination. This happened off and on for a few days, and started to spook us a little. Then one night, we were downstairs watching a movie when we heard a voice behind us say, clear as day, “Hello!”

We look. No one there. Baby monitor is on the other side of the room from where the voice came from. It was the play table talking to us! From then on, we regularly heard the play table saying “Hello” or “Goodbye” from time to time. Always at night, though. Never during the day.

It was strange, and eventually the table had to go away. Being possessed, it just didn’t seem like as much fun to anyone any more.

The night before our son was born, my wife was in the hospital and asked me to go home and get something for her. It was about 2:00 in the morning, and I was alone in my car, driving back to the hospital with whatever I’d been sent to pick up. I was listening to the radio when I heard a voice coming from the back seat. Not the radio. At first, I figured it was my imagination. But I kept hearing it, over and over again. Eventually, I turned off the radio to listen. And I heard it again, but couldn’t tell exactly where it was coming from. I rolled down the window, but after hearing it a few more times, I concluded it could only be coming from the back seat. I looked, of course, but there was nothing there but a bag for my wife. The voice kept coming. I could hear it say, “Hello” from time to time, and then something else. I couldn’t quite make out what it was saying, but they were definitely words. I didn’t know what to do. I’m ashamed to admit it, but eventually, I started to answer. No real reason, but just in case something out-of-the-ordinary was happening, I figured I’d at least try to find out what it was. I actually had a pretty lengthy conversation with the mystery voice. What else was I supposed to do? The voice continued, but it was never quite clear enough to make out more than the occasional, “Hello.” It was clear enough, however, for me to be sure it was not my imagination, and for me to know that it was saying something.

Eventually, I got to the hospital and gathered up the bag I’d picked up for my wife. And there he was. Larry the Cucumber, my daughter’s Veggie Tales toy. Push a button, and he’d say one of three or four different phrases-one of which was, “Hello.” He’d been lying under the bag, and I suppose whenever I went over a bump, it jostled him enough to start talking.

About a year ago, my son got a talking board puzzle. It had a bunch of farm animals, and when you put a piece in, you would hear the sound that animal made. He loved it. Until…

The puzzle started to make noises on its own at random, even if no one was near it. Every so often, you’d hear animal sounds coming from a room even though no one was in that room. Over time, the animal sounds…changed. They were no longer the sounds real animals make, but instead were distorted into hideous, monstrous sounds. And the timing was no longer random. As soon as you turned off the lights, you’d hear a groaning, screaming, squall. Not exactly a good experience for a toddler! Let’s just say that it didn’t take him long to refuse to even look at the puzzle, let alone try to put the pieces back together.

Tonight, we were watching, Where the Wild Things Are. The movie was almost over, and it was about time for bed. We were all focused on the TV, when all of a sudden, we heard a sound like one of the Chipmunks talking behind us. Then a loud crash, some more Chipmunk-sounds, and something rolled across the kitchen floor.

Our son’s toy truck, which had been sitting quietly on the counter minding its own business for no less than two hours, had suddenly decided to scream a Chipmunk-esque battle cry and launch itself off the counter top to charge across the kitchen floor. The normal voice for the truck is a deep monster-truck-jam-announcer-on-steroids-type voice. I have no idea where the Chipmunk voice came from.

There have been other instances of electronic toys coming to life in our family. So let me be the first to warn you not to anger the toy-gods.

If SkyNet really does become self-aware, I’m convinced it will first make its presence known through our children’s toys.

You have been warned…

In the Place Where Only That Which You Have Loved Can Save You

Wed, 17 Mar 2010 00:01:56 -0600

My absolute favorite books of all time have to be Joel Rosenberg’s “Guardians of the Flame” series. The entire series is great, but there’s one book right in the middle called The Road to Ehvenor. In it, my hero, Walter Slovotsky, has to battle a demon in The Place Where Only That Which You Have Loved Can Save You.

Walter finds himself in this strange magical land where his only hope of survival lies in the things he has invested himself in. He says, “Involve yourself with the world. Reach out. Touch. Taste. Live. Trust me on this one, if nothing else.” When you love someone or something very much, a part of you lives in that person or that thing. And when you enter The Place Where Only That Which You Have Loved Can Save You, your only hope is to have loved a lot, lived a lot, experienced a lot. You have to have invested yourself in the world around you to survive.

Walter not only survives in The Place Where Only That Which You Have Loved Can Save You. He kicks ass. He has lived his whole life involved in the world, reaching out, touching, tasting, living, loving.

Today, I find myself in The Place Where Only That Which You Have Loved Can Save You. Unfortunately, for me, I am no Walter Slovotsky. I have not involved myself with the world. I have not reached out, touched, or tasted. I have not lived. I’ve hidden myself away from the world, I’ve cowered in a corner, allowing life to pass me by, hoping to avoid pain, heartache, and sorrow.

Doing so has, unfortunately, only cultivated the same pain, heartache, and sorrow I have tried to avoid. And now, I find myself lost, alone, bitter, broken, and empty.

I have almost lived. I have almost loved. I have almost enjoyed life. I’ve had an interesting life, in most respects. Since first grade, I believed I’d grow up to be a marine biologist. But just before college, I chickened out and decided to major in computer science instead. I hated that major, and it was at that time that I realized I wasn’t meant to spend my days indoors, working from early morning into the deep recesses of the night. I knew I had to have a job outdoors…somehow connected to the “real” world. So I changed my major again, this time to equine science. I had never spent more than five minutes around horses in my life, but I saw an opportunity to start a career that would let me work outdoors, work with animals, engage my passion for science, and generally offer the lifestyle I wanted. Not financially, of course, but in terms of happiness.

OK, so that last part isn’t true. I changed my major because I fell in love with a girl who was majoring in equine science. But when that relationship ended (badly), I convinced myself to keep my major for those reasons.

It wasn’t until my senior year that I realized that my lack of real hands-on experience with horses would make it almost impossible for me to get a job actually working with horses. Thinking I might try veterinary school instead, I decided I’d better get a feel for the medical field to see if it was something I would like or had any natural aptitude for. Because I had no medical training, there weren’t many options for starting a medical career (since I was not ready to go back to college right away). I enlisted in the U.S. Navy as a Hospital Corpsman. I spent five years in the Navy learning about medicine, most of that time onboard a ship stationed in Sasebo, Japan. In that time, I learned that I despise the medical field. I always thought medicine was all about science, and was apalled to discover that there’s more trial and error than actual science in the day-to-day practice of medicine.

When I left the Navy, I was in a bit of a pickle. I had a college degree, but in a field that I would never be able to get a job in. I had some experience in the medical field, but had no interest in working in that field any longer. Reviewing my options, and still determined to work outdoors, I signed on with a construction company to work as a laborer and eventually an apprentice carpenter. It gave me the chance to work outdoors, so it was a good job for me. Of course, it didn’t pay much, but it was enough to live on. For me. Alone. Along came family, and the construction career had to go. I just didn’t make enough money, and the work was too unsteady.

And what did people think of me during all those years? Well, they thought I was a bit of a dork, to be honest. Shy. Quiet. Kind. Thoughtful. Everyone would have said, “He’s such a nice guy.” Everyone would have said, “There’s nothing he can’t do.” Towards the end, people may have started wondering why I wasn’t applying myself, but they still would have said that I could do anything I put my mind to.

That was eight years ago, near enough. Since then, the dreams have died. The adventure is gone. I think my IQ has been cut in half. Now, I just try to get by from day to day. The only time I spend outdoors is the short walk between my office and the parking lot twice a day. I don’t even try to think about the future. I can’t tell you how many times over the past eight years I’ve been called “worthless,” “incompetent,” “stupid,” “inferior,” and the like. I’ve been shunned, ignored, dismissed, and generally stepped on. And that’s how I find myself in The Place Where Only That Which You Have Loved Can Save You. And now that I’m here, I realize that I never invested enough of myself in all of my experiences. I’ve done a lot, experienced a lot, but I never invested myself whole-hearted in anything I’ve ever done.

I haven’t loved or been loved in 17 years. And I’m not too sure about the “been loved” part. That was the one and only time I’ve known love in my life. And it lasted less than a year.

Which means that here, in The Place Where Only That Which You Have Loved Can Save You, I’m fucked.

"Where there’s marriage without love, there will be love without marriage."

Tue, 16 Mar 2010 10:00:00 -0600

“Where there’s marriage without love, there will be love without marriage.”

- Benjamin Franklin

Inverted extroverts of the world unite!

Tue, 09 Mar 2010 22:20:00 -0700

There are two different ways to explain the difference between an introvert and an extrovert. Unfortunately, they are not necessarily compatible.

In common terms, people think of introverts as shy, softspoken people and extroverts as gregarious, talkative people.

But in psychological terms, the difference between introverts and extroverts has little to do with how they behave and everything to do with how they are motivated.

Introverts are motivated by spending time alone. And extroverts are motivated by spending time with other people. The difference is in what makes them happy, what gives them the strength to face life’s challenges, or what ”recharges their batteries.”

I’m sure in most cases, people who are motivated by spending time with other people are naturally gregarious and talkative. And people who are motivated by spending time alone are likely to be shy and softspoken. But what happens when that’s not the case?

Take me, for example. I’m very shy and softspoken, easily overlooked or ignored. But in order to function normally, I need to spend quality, face-to-face time with other people. If I go too long without spending quality time with other people, I feel drained and generally dissatisfied with life. I’ve also known people who were very gregarious and talkative, but they needed plenty of ”down time” alone in order to feel energized and content.

I like to think of people like me who just don’t fit the mold as either “inverted extroverts” or “extruded introverts.”

There’s a disconnect between the way people perceive us and the way we really are. People see shy, quiet people and assume that they prefer to spend their time alone, when in reality, they might be desperate for human companionship. Similarly, people who see gregarious, talkative people automatically assume that they want to talk any time of the day or night when they might just be trying to get away from the constant bother.

I suppose what it all boils down to is that I just can’t do anything right.

bedheadblonde: marleymarley: dear Internet, We are making a...

Sun, 28 Feb 2010 12:28:14 -0700

bedheadblonde:

marleymarley:

dear Internet,

We are making a poster together, you and me, for califmom/pocketcontents’ husband Bob, who is fighting cancer as we speak. He needs a visual reminder of the support he’s got, and pocketcontents came up with this idea which I think is awesome and I’m happy to help out. I think this is something she needs just as much - we should let her know that we’re here for her too.

You need to send me a photo of yourself, taken with a regular old digital camera if at all possible (no cell-phone or photobooth photos, please - unless there’s absolutely no alternative). Look into the camera and flip it off. Say the words ‘fuck cancer’.

Email your pics to me at marleymeowmeow at the gmails, and be sure to put ‘fuck cancer’ in the subject line.

I need your photos right away - you have a deadline of midnight Pacific time the day after tomorrow. That’s Wednesday.

DO EEEEET.

IMPORTANT EDIT: To our wordsmitherers and designerlygeeks out there - please please please give me your ideas - I don’t want this to suck!

My #FuckCancer pic for Bob… Want to help out? More...

Sun, 28 Feb 2010 12:26:14 -0700

My #FuckCancer pic for Bob…

Want to help out? More information here…http://marleymarley.tumblr.com/post/405252174/dear-internet-we-are-making-a-poster-together

From schmoyoho. Also check out his site for Auto Tune the News.

Tue, 23 Feb 2010 17:28:00 -0700

From schmoyoho.

Also check out his site for Auto Tune the News.

Anyone who’s ever studied biology for long has probably...

Tue, 23 Feb 2010 10:00:00 -0700

Anyone who’s ever studied biology for long has probably heard the phrase, “Ontogeny recapitulates phylogeny.” Heck, I’ve even seen it used in an episode of The Simpsons.

Basically, it’s just a fancy way to sound smart. It means that the stages of a fetuses development re-enact the evolution of life on Earth. Supposedly, as animals develop in the egg or womb, they progress from a single-celled organism to a multi-cellular organism, to a more complex organism. You can often hear people say that baby mammals have gill slits at a certain stage in their development, which is one of the “proofs” of this theory.

Of course, the whole idea is bogus. It is based on a theory proposed by Ernst Haeckel because there appear to be similarities in appearance between different species at different stages of evolution. Modern science has shown that these are nothing more than superficial similarities. For example, mammals do not ever develop gill slits. But at a certain stage in their development, they develop some folds in their necks that look a little like gills. These folds are nothing more than pre-developed glands, and have nothing to do with respiration. That said, however, the idea is still popular, mostly because of this elegant turn of phrase. How can you sound anything but smart if you say, “Ontogeny recapitulates phylogeny?”

I have to admit, I like to say it myself. But I don’t believe it at all. So I thought I’d take the phrase and adapt it to something I believe in very much. And so, I propose that intellectuals of the world adopt the new phrase:

Evigilatio recapitulates phylogeny

Evigilo is Latin for “to awaken,” and evigilatio means “awakening” or waking up. Recapitulates again means “re-enacts” and phylogeny again means the evolution of life on Earth (Perhaps a better definition is the development of life into different types of organisms…the phyla). Unlike the original phrase, this one is at least true.

At least it is for me…

I’m narcoleptic, which means that I don’t experience the typical sleep stages of a normal person. Most people go through 3-4 stages of sleep each night, from a very light sleep during which they can easily be awakened, to a deep, dream-filled sleep. Not me. I am either awake or unconscious. There is no in between. I pass immediately from wakefulness into a deep dream-filled REM sleep. And so when it comes time to wake up in the morning, I have to claw my way out of a sleep as if returning to life after dying.

The process to me feels very much like evolving. When I first begin to wake up (generally 30-60 minutes after the alarm starts ringing), I am unable to move at all. After a minute or two, life flows back into me, and I slide out of bed. At this point, I have all of the motor skills of an amoeba. Crawling out of my room, my motor skills improve somewhat, but I am still left flopping about on the floor like a fish out of water. To compensate, I take a shower and regain even more mobility. I still can’t speak, but I can move a little more, so I’m about at the amphibian stage. Breakfast and coffee complete the evolutionary journey and return me to a human state of mind.

So there you have it…I’m living proof of evolution. In fact, I do it every single day of my life.

Procrasturbation

Tue, 09 Feb 2010 09:36:32 -0700

moegreeb:

chiclet:

I realize, as I sit here, that I don’t know how to answer answers to my post about procrasturbation without rebloging myself. Yes, I am really that technologically disadvantaged.

Anyway, I’m procrasturbating which means I’m either procrastinating about masturbating or procrastinating by masturbating. Take it how you want it people. I’m doing it.

My daughter (imprettycrafty) Wendy taught me that word because she’s awesome like that. Don’t know the origination. Also, she got the hubs a card that sang, “You were born- long ago, long ago, loooong. Agoooo.” in an opera kind of voice. Jake jacked the card.

I gotta say…I think masturbation might be on of the only things in life that I will not procrastinate about. I owe it to myself too much.

On the gripping hand...

Mon, 08 Feb 2010 22:57:13 -0700

There’s an old book called The Mote in God’s Eye that I read some years ago. It was an OK book…no more than that. But there was one part of it that stayed with me. You see, there were these aliens with three arms/hands. Humans thought that they finally got rid of the aliens until they noticed a strange new expression cropping up around the universe. People would say, “On the one hand, {insert argument}, and on the other hand, {insert second argument}. But on the gripping hand, {insert most compelling/difficult argument}.” The phrase suggested that the three-handed aliens were still alive and well in the universe, somewhere or other.

I use this expression all the time, though it usually only manages to confuse other people. Then again, I don’t think I’ve managed to do anything but confuse people over the past few years, mostly myself. That’s what despair and loneliness brings, apparently. I’m tired of being alone. I want life to make sense again.

I’ve done all I can to make the best of a bad situation. I’ve tried to ignore years of unending criticisms and complaints as best I could, and to return unconditional hatred with unconditional love. But damnit, I’m tired of it. I’m not the enemy here. I’ve never done anything but offer you all I had and more. I’ve was there when all of your friends abandoned you. I’m the only reason your family didn’t completely give up hope on you. I was the one who protected you from yourself. I supported you in everything you did. I’ve stayed with you even though you’ve treated me like last week’s garbage since the day we met. I’ve accepted everything you’ve done to hurt me without ever once turning the tables on you and saying “If you can do it, I should be able to do it too.” I’ve comforted you when you were hurt. I’ve held you while you cried. I’ve given you everything you’ve ever asked of me. I’ve turned the other cheek over and over and over again. I sacrificed my career to support you, I gave up my friends because they said you weren’t good enough for me. I gave up my dreams to help you reach yours. I’ve encouraged you in everything you’ve done. I’ve told you countless times that I love you, that I appreciate you, that I respect you.

You’ve never said a kind word to me. You’ve never given me a shoulder to lean on. You’ve criticized every decision I’ve ever made, even though every decision I’ve ever made has been to your benefit. You’ve used me to get what you wanted and given nothing in return. You’ve taken my love and spit it back in my face. You’ve taken away every shred of self-respect I spent a lifetime building up. You treat everyone else you meet as if they were a king or a queen…all the while treating me like a piece of dogshit that won’t come off your shoe no matter how hard you scrape.

On the one hand, I care about you and want to spend time with you. On the other hand, I need a better friend than you—a friend who cares about me as much as I care about them. And on the gripping hand, I won’t tolerate being labeled as insignificant or unimportant any more. You have hurt me for the last time, and I won’t allow it to happen again. I won’t let myself care for you any more.

I can't seem to get anything done...

Tue, 26 Jan 2010 21:00:00 -0700

There’s so much in this world that I want to accomplish, if for no other reason than to prove to myself that I am worth something. Hey, if no one else is going to see it, at least I should, right?

The only problem is, I always take on too much at one time, and I just can’t seem to find the time and motivation to finish any of it. By the time I get home from work, I have about two hours to spend with my kids while my wife goes into hiding. And by “two hours to spend with my kids,” I mean trying to juggle cooking and eating dinner, cleaning the kitchen, doing laundry, and trying to get a few other chores done while trying to play with the kids (neither of whom want to share me with the other). Two measly hours a day (three if I get home early AND my kids stay up late). And while I love spending time with the kids, its just not enough. After spending all day alone in my ~~cave~~ office, leaving feeling like I’ve accomplished nothing (with my day or with my life), I feel incomplete.

I enjoy the time with the kids, but I can’t help but feeling there should be more to life. I’d really like to talk to someone who cared about what I had to say, someone to just “hang out with” at the end of the day. Also, I want to feel like I’ve done something, accomplished something, succeeded at something. Since the first option seems to be out of the question, I’m always looking for something to do or something to accomplish between the time the kids go to bed and I do. I have about an hour or two available, and if I could just settle on one thing at a time, that might be enough. But lately I’ve found that I’m spreading my time out on too many different projects, and not getting anywhere with any of them.

On any given night, I have to choose from the following:

Watching recorded TV
(If someone hasn’t stopped the recording in the middle of the show)
Watching rented movies
(before they end up back in the mail)
Reading
(my absolute favorite pasttime)
Working on my novel
(what I most want to do)
Working on my other novel
(Yes, I have two unfinished novels. How sad)
Starting a home-based business
Finishing a graphic-design project for my mom I started over a year ago
Learning PHP/MySQL
Web design and coding
(I have three Web sites in various states of neglect)
Blogging
(I have three blogs in various states of neglect)
Surfing the Web, reading e-mail, and reading other people’s blogs
Trying to catch up on all the wonderful tweets I’ve missed throughout the day
Trying to do a better job of staying in touch with people or meet new people
Finding and downloading new music
(Up until last month, I hadn’t bought any new music in nearly a decade)
Making some attempt to stay on top of news from the “real” world
Learning the new skills I need for work
Playing Facebook games
(The only use I’ve found for Facebook so far)

To be honest, by the time it’s 10:00 or 11:00 at night, all I really want to do is relax for a while. But whenever I do, I end up going to bed feeling like I haven’t accomplished anything at all. By the time my evening starts and I have to make the choice of what to do, I’m tired, bored, lonely, depressed, and feel like I haven’t accomplished anything at all. So I usually try to do two or three things on my list and find myself getting distracted, frustrated with my slow progress, and generally feeling even worse than when I started. Looks like my choices are to sit on my ass and do nothing (leaving me feeling like I haven’t accomplished anything) or taking on too much and getting nothing done (leaving me feeling like I haven’t accomplished anything).

This sucks.

Give a man a fish, & he eats for a day. Teach a man to fish, & he eats for a lifetime. Do...

Tue, 26 Jan 2010 11:56:26 -0700

Give a man a fish, & he eats for a day. Teach a man to fish, & he eats for a lifetime. Do neither, and you just might be in my family.

I’m drunker than I were, but I wanna be drunker than I are.

Sat, 23 Jan 2010 01:02:37 -0700

I’m drunker than I were, but I wanna be drunker than I are.

Holy shit! Did you guys know you can cum just by touching yourself!?!

Sat, 23 Jan 2010 01:02:37 -0700

Holy shit! Did you guys know you can cum just by touching yourself!?!

I’m not nearly as drunk as I think I should be. But damn it all, I’m trying here…

Sat, 23 Jan 2010 01:02:37 -0700

I’m not nearly as drunk as I think I should be. But damn it all, I’m trying here…

There isn’t enough alcohol in the world to make what you’ve done OK.

Fri, 22 Jan 2010 21:36:50 -0700

There isn’t enough alcohol in the world to make what you’ve done OK.

It just occurred to me that I’d probably be a lot less lonely if I weren’t such an...

Wed, 13 Jan 2010 10:28:43 -0700

It just occurred to me that I’d probably be a lot less lonely if I weren’t such an asshole.