Regimen

From my own experiences, many people have a hard time adapting to change, be it through a new semester of school, new living quarters, a new job, or new friends.

More than often, conflicts tend to result as people struggle to adjust themselves to some new environment. Of course, some people take longer than others; some will be easily agitated, some will be filled with anxiety, and most will simply suck it up and try to pretend things are okay.

And then there are those people who thrive on change. They love the excitement and adventure of constantly being introduced to something new, however, many of these people come off as flakey and irresponsible, which they mostly are. These kinds of people have few ties to things both real and immaterial, so they could care less about anything other than themselves.

Now for me, I am definitely someone who likes to have a very regimented schedule for things regarding school and work. If I didn’t, I would never get anything done. Having a schedule allows my mind to focus on other things, like the actual work itself.

The strange thing, and I’ve been thinking about it more and more lately, is that I’ve realized another reason as to why I like having a strict regimen. It’s not that I don’t like change, I do, so much so that I think I make schedules for myself simply so I can deviate from them.

Whenever something out of the ordinary happens, and I’m talking pretty much anything at all, even something as minute as a phone call I didn’t expect, my mind perks up. It’s these little things in my everyday life that keep me going.

Even the food I eat is the same way. On Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, I always have a Slim Fast or a protein shake + a breakfast bar before 10:30 in the mornings. Tuesday and Thursday is up to my mom since I’m home for breakfast on those days.

In the afternoons, I eat the same Subway sandwich at 3 pm every single day. It’s a monterey cheddar footlong roast beef with everything on it except for pickles and banana peppers with some chipotle southwest sauce. I switch it up maybe once a week, and that’s only if I’m especially bored or if I’ve had a bad week.

Sometimes, if I’m feeling adventurous, I go to Panera Bread and order the same thing I always get there: broccoli cheddar soup in a sourdough bread bowl. How exciting am I?

It’s kind of silly now that I’m trying to explain it, but I like it anyways.

Super Smash Bros. Brawl

Super. Smash. Brothers. Brawl.

In the past few weeks, this game has been the cause of many sleepless nights in colleges all around the nation.

Definitely one of the top games in existence right now.

Created for the Nintendo Wii, this game is a third in a Super Smash Brothers series. The original being on the Nintendo 64, and Super Smash Brothers Melee on the Nintendo Game Cube.

This is a fighting game to end all fighting games. With a collection of 35 well-known (and a couple not so well-known) characters, Brawl gives you an environment where awesomness meets amazinglucas…you won’t understand that unless you’ve played.

Honestly, if you’ve never heard of this game, then I don’t know how you’re even reading this blog from the hole in the wall you live in.  Either that, or get some better friends.  Friends don’t let friends not play smash. 

The gameplay is fantastic. While keeping the style of the previous versions, Brawl adds a few more dynamics to the game: final smashes, tripping, and gliding to name a few.

They have also enabled online play, so you can smash with players from all over the world, which is probably the biggest reason the national grade point average is dropping. Who has time to do homework and study?

Not me…I just want to smash.

Speaking of which…goodbye!

Who Cares?

POEM DAY!

Who cares? – by Everest Wu

So who’s to say, during the day,
That we can’t play, that we can’t stray,
I’ll go my way, I won’t delay,
The music plays, who cares? I start to sway.

The song begins, the drums come in,
And just within, the violin,
A note so thin, it makes me grin,
It feels like sin, who cares? I start to spin.

So go uptown, let’s play around,
I live to clown, I’ll swim and drown,
But I can’t frown, so break it down,
I’m not renowned, who cares? I’ll wear that crown.

I am the king, so now I’ll sing,
I like to swing, and shake that thing,
I’ve got that zing, it feels like spring,
Was this a fling, who cares? Cause I’ve got wings.

Least I Could Do

I’m going to take some time now to introduce you to a very wonderful webcomic entitled ‘Least I Could Do’.

It follows the life and mishaps of a manwhore named Rayne, and well, as with all manwhores, shenanigans ensue.

They’ve got everything well archived, and the story arcs are always pretty entertaining, so if you get the chance, take it up, you won’t regret it…unless you’re a Nazi. Are you a Nazi?

Are you?

Steak and a Blowjob Day

POEM DAY!

I meant to post this on March 14th (one month after Valentine’s Day), but I was on vacation.  Steak and a Blowjob Day is a guy’s equivalent to Valentine’s.   Enjoy!

Steak and a Blowjob Day – by Everest Wu

A fateful day is nearing us and wonders we’ll behold,
For it’s a day meant for all guys, all males young and old,
The gifts that we’ll receive include a pretty pink bouquet
Of meat and open mouths, for it’s Steak and a Blowjob Day!

Instead of heart-shaped chocolates, we get a one-pound steak,
Instead of kisses on our cheek, it’s kisses on our snake,
Instead of playing Barry White, we get a Foreman grill,
Instead of long, romantic walks, it’s just until we spill.

Now some will always wonder, “Wow! Is this all it takes?
A quick work of my tongue and mouth and just a couple steaks?”
But yes, of course that’s all it is, we guys are simple folk,
But don’t forget the A1 sauce and please try not to choke.

Believe

It’s hard to find something that you can really believe in.

Ask yourself, what is it that you strive for?

Are you trying to impress others, or are you trying to impress yourself? Are you fighting to protect people, or are you fighting simply to fight? Do you love the ones you are with, or are you just waiting for something better?

These are just a few of the questions that dance about my mind each night. I struggle very hard – grasping at whatever answers I can find in a grim attempt to discover things undiscovered.

I reach the same conclusion every night:

“Stop thinking and go to sleep already, you fucking moron.”

Seriously, I can’t even begin to describe the countless clock ticks that haunt me each night while I waste away with eyes wide open on my bed.

Finding something that you can really believe in is, in my battered opinion, one of the few things that a person has control over.

My life is like a messy college room that I attempt to clean every week, but it always ends in chaos. I try my best to take care of it. I vacuum the floor that supports me, I clean the walls that confine me, and I oil the door that holds my path so it’s not so creaky and unnerving when I step through it. And for a little while each week, everything is great, but without constant fine-tuning and maintenance, it all goes to shit.

I guess that’s why I spend so much time thinking about these things. It’s my way of trying to adapt to my life. Everyone has their alone time, and I spend mine staring at a ceiling that may or may not collapse on me…

It’s a metaphoric ceiling though, so it wouldn’t hurt…except metaphorically.

Writing

Over last week’s break, I did a lot of contemplation, mostly while sitting on the beach.

There’s nothing like staring into the horizon between the abyss of the sky and the sea. If you ever get that chance, please do it. It’s not life-altering, but it can put some things into perspective.

In my life, anytime I start to feel sad, depressed, or lonely, I always write. I often feel like an octopus, constantly surrounded by messy blots of ink that I called my poems and journals.

This isn’t to say that I don’t write when I’m happy, because I do, it’s just that I seem to find my way back to a pen and some paper more easily when I’m not.

Maybe my subconscious is looking for a tissue on which to etch black tears…That’s what I like to call it sometimes.

My writing also tends to get darker and more descriptive too.

I usually shield a lot of what’s going on in my head. It’s not often I can talk to anyone about things without completely freaking them out because of how depressed I can make them feel. Logic can be scary.

Right now is probably the most illogical I’ve felt in quite awhile though. I wish I knew what I was doing. For once, I have absolutely no idea, and it’s slightly hard to deal with.

One of the things I’ve prided myself in is being able to control and assess every situation I’m in with precision and efficiency, but right now, I can’t. I don’t know why.

I really don’t know where I’m going with this, so I’ll probably just stop talking now. Sorry for being so vague, but I really just needed somewhere to spit some text out.

I would go outside for some fresh air, but it’s dark and cloudy right now…

I think that it’s good though, because a clear sky just wouldn’t feel right.

Spring Break

Last week was my Spring Break, which explains my lack of posting. I meant to tell you all, but I had to leave before I got the chance to type out the post that I had written.

Anyways, my friends and I went to Miami for our Spring Break.

I had a blast. Just being on the beach there was good enough for me. I could have just sat there on the beach, staring into the clear blue depths of the painting in front of me for hours upon hours…

…but instead, I drank.

A lot.

I probably spent close to 120 dollars on alcohol alone, but luckily, we didn’t have to pay any lodging costs because we were staying at my friend’s grandma’s place. Anytime we weren’t at the beach, we were either drinking more alcohol, recovering from earlier alcohol, goofing off in the streets, or playing Super Smash Bros Brawl, which is an awesome game.

This was probably as stereotypical as a Spring Break could get. I’d probably do it again, but only if I don’t have to sit in a car for goddamn near 14 hours…each way.

That fucking sucked.

Racism – Part 2

I should probably title this as ‘Revenge’. This is probably one of my favorite memories of my childhood.

When I was in middle school, there were still quite a few people that would make fun of me because I was asian.

It was also around this time that I discovered what ‘pressure points’ were and how to use them. More specifically, the ones on a person’s neck and shoulders.

One day, during the 6th grade, some piece of shit white boy decided he was going to mock me, and I just lost it.

As if I was possessed, I turned around and grabbed two points on this shoulder/neck so hard that he kneeled down in pain and begged to be let go.

I told him no, not unless he apologized first.

It was epic.

Frankly, if I could do this on a larger scale, I would. If this event happened in my life today, and if there were no possible repercussions regarding law, I would probably torture the person for some time before killing him in front of his parents, and then killing them for raising such a piece of shit kid.

Yeah.

You can sort of guess how much I don’t like these kinds of people.

Racism – Part 1

Does it exist? Hell yes it does. Am I racist? Hell yes I am. Do I have the right to be? Hell yes I do. Do you? Probably not.

If you know me, you’ve probably heard me crack racial jokes, mostly about asians.

Now, some people think that this perpetuates the whole stereotype and racism thing, but it doesn’t. Those will ALWAYS persist, no matter what you may think.

America will never be a melting pot, it’s more like a tossed salad, and I will spit in your face if you think that one day people will see past any sort of racial difference between each other, because it won’t happen. We can hope, of course, but no. It’s an inherent human characteristic to separate and group those with similar attributes together. Combined with how often people conflict with each other, and you’ll always have people throwing around completely unrelated insults in every incident they find themselves.

My reason for making stereotype jokes then? It’s a self-defense mechanism that sort of just developed when I was young.

Growing up, I dealt with a lot of racist shit. And yeah, it hurt. I fucking hated white people, black people, latinos…What the hell did I ever do to anyone? I was a quiet kid who worked hard in everything I did, and yet, people felt the need to attack me. To this day, I still hold a grudge. I always hold grudges. It wasn’t fair. I was just a goddamn child.

A child.

(Oh, and this is about when I began to discover that I was a misanthropist. Go figure.)

Then, at some unknown point, under some unknown circumstance, I cracked a joke about myself, and people laughed. It was really weird at first. Instead of awkwardness from racial comments, people smiled.

It was funny because I was the one who said it, and it made me feel better. I started making jokes more and more. The more I made these jokes, the more they lightened the whole racism thing behind it.

Whenever a guy tried to make fun of me, it wouldn’t work because I had made that same joke too many times already. Of course, it still bothered me, and it probably always will, but just not as much.

Silly idea?…Maybe.

But it works.