Got my hair bleached blonde. I’ve always wanted very pale blonde hair, but midtone is about as far as it goes.
Trolley, Aaron, and wheaties got me Half-Life 2 for my birthday. I didn’t have a chance to really play it until this weekend, but I decided to play through Half-Life: Source first, because it was four years five years since I last finished it, and going through the game again would help me appreciate all the little details being put into the sequel. The odd thing is that I remember taking weeks to play it through, whereas I started playing HL:S Friday, played a bit last night, and am almost done now. It’s nice to be able to sit and play through a game, taking my time, not having to worry about classes, or assignments, or tests, etc. This makes me realize that I haven’t really gotten into a game like this since I finished university.
Finally get to go for some pho with Loo today. We haven’t been almost two weeks.
Aaron bought me a quadruple/quadruple from Timmies yesterday, and it was good. I’ve been trying to cut down on sugar and creme for years now, so four of each being so satiating (almost candy-like) is very scary.
I took my first puff from a cigarette yesterday. It was a Matinee Extra Mild, and it wasn’t pleasant. I was stoned, and the weed tasted way better.
The Ghost In The Shell: Stand Alone Complex tracks that Number18 sent me are amazing. She rules.
Been busy as fuck.
That’s all. I’m going back to sleep.
Yesterday I was taking the bus home, sitting in an aisle seat next to someone (the part of the bus where there are four pairs of seats, two pairs facing forward on each side of the aisle). There was a girl in the seats in front of me, with her bag next to her, preventing someone from sitting there, and two people sitting in the seats across the aisle from her. Eventually, she made like she was going to get off at the next stop, and put her bag on her lap. The guy in the aisle seat across from her (at an angle to me) saw, and looked rapaciously at the soon-to-be-vacant window seat. Then he looked back at me, and saw me eying the seat as well, and going through the motions of a Tarantino joke from Desperado (“Dick, glass. Dick, glass. Dick, glass.”), except with me and the empty seat. As soon as he realizes that he might lose the coveted window seat to me, he gets up and sits in the recently vacated space next to the girl to reserve the spot, before she even gets up to leave. Eventually, the next stop comes along, and she doesn’t get off. Instead, the person who was sitting in the window seat next to him before he moved gets up and leaves. The guy looks over to the newly vacated window spot, and, too embarrassed to move back, just stays next to the girl, stewing in the consequences of his error.
I could feel his scalp starting to itch, the way a sudden break of sweat starts to tingle the pores along the back.
And then I walked over to the window seat, and slumped down comfortably. Learning to never make assumptions and never be too anxious was easy. It was learning to live that by those rules that was the hard part.
I also touched some guys leg with my fingers later on, because he rudely shoved his knees into my legs while making his way to a standing spot. Nothing makes a man jump like challenging his heterosexuality.
I was riding the bus the other day, and a woman got on and sat in a perpendicular seat in front of me. She wore plain mary-janes, thick wool stockings, a conservative plaid skirt, and had her hair in a slightly ornamented pony-tail. I assume that she was in her late twenties, but her demeanour was almost child-like. She sat for a while, staring at nothing, carrying a perpetually innocent, apologetic expression on her face, as if she had a tiring day and was penitent to those around her for being in such an exhausted state.
Sticking out of her bag was a simple, white, letter-sized booklet with the heading “DEMOCRACY IN ACTION PROGRAM”, and I thought it was odd that a parliamentary event being held in the capital of Canada would use the American spelling of the word “programme”.
Soon, she pulled out a set of plastic, bulky Sony headphones (the ones with the oversized foam that actually come with a music device), and searched her bag for the tape player attached at the end of the cord. Now, I admit that I’m already generally attracted to older, homely looking women, but it was the fact that she had such a pure look of simple bliss on her face when she put on the headphones, as if she was waiting all day to listen to her music, that I found most attractive.
I wonder if anyone understands how much the release of HL 2 means to me. I wonder if anyone can understand how emotional I get just seeing the concept art. The first Half-Life defined more than a year of my life, the way decades have defined phases for previous generations. Half-Life was my favourite game of all time, not even second to Chrono Trigger. It was an experience, a journey, not just a game, and the sequel is being released tomorrow.
I formatted my machine yesterday (something I haven’t done in over a year, even though I used to every quarter before the release of XP), to clean up my system in preparation. I’m hoping I’ll be able to run it on a decent graphics setting; my video card is a little dated now, but it’s still a DirectX 9 generation ATI Radeon.
I can’t wait. The entire idea that something I’ve been waiting more than four years for will be released tomorrow hasn’t quite set in my head yet.
Knowing that I love someone may make me strong, but knowing that someone loves me makes me stronger.