Dang Livejournal, messin' up my cool formatting.
Here is how my day is going, presented as a bell curve.





Mmf?
Wake up.
Overslept.
Fuck, late.
Fuck, oatmeal?
Cold water only?
Shower is alright.
Getting a ride to work.
Work is kinda boring but okay.
Finally finished this work project.
Hell yeah having a Dr Pepper breakfast!
Oh cool, getting to go on an ENJOYABLE shoot!
Watching After Effects and Illustrator tutorials with Kuz!
Getting to go home two hours early, and not have to come in on Friday!
Walking home, and all of the sudden, RHYS POPS OUT OF NOWHERE AND SAYS HEY!
Getting home, get to sleep, get to have a FREE GYRO, got a PAYING GIG, and SLEEP!
And I don't have to wake up for a couple hours, which is pretty damn nice.
Oh man, I still have to get dressed and everything. I kind of stink.
Oh fucking shit. I have to go to karaoke with Jay and all them.
I don't want to sing karaoke. I don't sing at all, ever.
And I don't know some of the people that are going
So it's gonna be double awkward on top of that
And I'll come home late and incredibly tired
And have no money left whatsoever
And I'll feel dumb and dumb
and get very sleepy
and depressed
and then
sleep.
Mmf.

"Is this Ani DiFranco? She sounds...off."

"I think it's Lisa Loeb" he mumbled into the pillow, not registering the distaste for his musical preference on her face.

Molly lifted the notebook computer between herself and Donovan off of the bed and into her lap. The white sheet covering her legs was kicked off as she changed the song to Suzanne Vega. Donovan apparently had a kink for sultry female singers, and Molly figured she was likely fulfilling some fantasy of his. Even so, he didn't pay much attention to her. His face kissed his coverless pillow far more than any part of her, and his combination of closed eyes, unconsciousness, and an open mouth did little except piss Molly off.

She pulled her jeans off the ground, and dug into her pockets. She pulled out a green package filled with menthols, looked away considering them for a moment, and instead placed them back inside. Pausing, she reached for her handbag, pulling out her silver lighter and a different pack of cigarettes, seemingly without branding other than the words "Darjeeling Blacks" and white filligre. It flipped open to reveal ten ebony cylinders. Using the nails of her thumb and forefinger, she extracted one and placed the filter on her bottom lip. With a shielded ignition, the scent of clove and tobacco filled the air.

A deep, increasingly slow inhale. An exhale focused directly on Donovan's face.

He coughed into consciousness, features contorting into confusion, coughing, mild shock, annoyance, and finally a forced smile. He sat upright, squinting his eyes to deal with the sunlight streaming into the stark white room. Donovan looked Molly in the eye as she stifled a giggle, again dragging on the onyx cigarette. She released the smoke this time away from him. Instead, she flicked her ash at him, visibly spraying it all over his face, chest, and cream-colored linens.

He laughed at her, closed his computer, leaned in and kissed her forehead.
"You, Molly Anne Bishop, are a bitch."

She chewed softly on the skin of her lip as she laughed with him.
"And you, Donovan 'Big-End', you Lisa Loeb listening fuck, are an asshole."

He took the cigarette from her lips and kissed her. He took a drag from it, burning more of the black paper, before handing it back to her.

It was the third of seven truly happy moments they would ever spend together.

Because I am that level of vain, and because I actually posted it here first that I applied, I just wanted to let everyone know that, starting Fall 2009, I will have a weekly column in The Post, my college's newspaper.

I am so damn excited for this!

OKAY PLEASE READ THIS BECAUSE IT IS A LITTLE BIT IMPORTANT TO ME

Okay holy shit I done gone an did a fool thing and entered a contest. What's worse, I made it to the next round of a contest, and that is where you come in.

"I’ve participated in a contest called “Tweet Me A Story,” where participants are challenged to write 140-character-or-less stories based on a provided term. The first round of the judging is over, and two of my stories have made it to the finals in my category!

Starting June 2nd at 9am Eastern, the finalists are put up for an audience vote, and the top vote-getters advance to a grand-championship round. Here’s where you can read the top 15 stories in my category and vote for your favorite!"

The thing is, the above passage was written by Dave Fucking Malki! one of my all time heroes, and yet it ALSO DIRECTLY APPLIES TO ME BECAUSE I GOT THE SAME RESULT IN A CONTEST AS DAVE FUCKING MALKI!

I didn't even know he was in this contest! I'm freaking out!

For those who don't feel like clicking the link and voting (please please please!) here are my two that made it to this round (the provided word was "secret"):

-----

Stormy night. Experimenting. Accident! Entire perspective on existence changed. New life. New self. Power. New everything. Identity? Secret.

--

Wearing her smile like a child's secret, she slowly dragged each nail across his desk. "My husband is missing. But that's not why I'm here."

-----

OKAY I KNOW I AM A TERRIBLE PERSON AND I FEEL SO VAIN AND ARROGANT AND LIKE A WHORE BUT PLEASE VOTE FOR ME I LOVE YOU FOREVER.

Also just so I feel like less of an arrogant prick, please tell me in the comments of this post how you are doing! It has been so long since you and I have spoken.

From: "Greg Mercer" (gm295306@ohio.edu)
To: rd207206@ohio.edu
Subject: Columnist Application
Sent: Sat, 30 May 2009 09:43:51 -0400

Oh, hello,

My name is Greg Mercer. I saw recently(ish) in The Post that you were looking
for applications for columnists. I do not claim to currently be a columnist nor
have I ever been, but I have had a "blog" before and currently have a "twitter"
which may be found at http://twitter.com/gregthepaladin. I guess that Twitter
stream is a fair representation of me, for better or worse.

Really, I just sort of enjoy writing, and while I have some ideas for a column,
I'm very willing to hear what you guys are looking for.

I would assume that if you were to consider me for an application, you might
like to know a little bit about me. I am a Media Arts and Sciences major, and to
be very honest I don't really get out all that much. I am a guy who spends most
(all) of his time in his room. When I do venture out it is in a manner similar
to some kind of grubby nightcrawler, only ever squirming out in order to go to
class or purchase comic books. I am trying to get in shape, but am very honest
with myself. I consume more media than I do food. On weekends I may venture
around campus and conduct vaguely anthropological or sociological studies,
chuckling to myself all the while. I like to imagine myself as a sort of hip
Justin Long type, but am probably closer to a less adorable John Hodgman.

I am not a perfect person by any means, but the tiny gray rectangle with your
information on it didn't ask for that. It asked for someone "funny or
interesting", "I mean, at all". And I mean, maybe not in a good way, but I like
to think I fit that criteria nicely.

I can tell you that if I were selected, one thing I would display is dedication;
I mean, it's not like I have anything else to do.

I thank you very much for your time. If you'd like to hear more, please, fire me
an email, or call, or whatever. I am not a difficult man to contact.

Greg Mercer
419-206-5153

So, there’s a Facebook meme where you post things you want to say to people but can’t. So I figure, it’s much safer to do that here than on Facebook, where people are both tagged and know me. Here on this Livejournal, no one knows anything!

If you think you’re one of these people, you probably are. Everyone I list is someone I know, but hopefully isn’t someone who reads this or can identify themselves. There’s even more than one about a couple people (but no more than 2 or 3 about a particular person I think)

——-

* I still fucking hate you, but I love when you call because your problems are hilarious to me. (yes I am that petty)
* You are a goddamned hero. Don’t let anyone ever convince you otherwise. Without you, I don’t know where any of us would be right now.
* You know, I have no idea where you and I stand? But I’m starting to be alright with that. Be nice to get a definitive sign though.
* I’m glad we’re talking again. But I’m still not going to leave my room.
* I think I might be developing a crush on you! Hm!
* You’re like the kid sister I’ve never had.
* I’m glad you were never in my life, I don’t think you have any redeeming qualities. Don’t ever try to come back.
* Sorry.
* I'm worried you and I might become more involved. Well, maybe worried is the wrong word.
* I’m sorry I get so massively douchey about it and will never ever shut up, and I realize that it never even enters your mind, so thank you for putting up with my shit.
* Why the hell do any of you fuckers even WANT me around? Honestly, I wasn’t contributing anything. None of us were working together. I was bad for yous guys and you were bad for me.
* No matter what, you always make me feel so much better. You’re going places kid, all I ask is that you remember me when you’re cock of the walk.
* Can’t. Fucking. Wait. To get back and see you. Been far far too long.
* I know things are tough for you right now, but we’re all here. I don’t claim to know the full story, but I want to help in every way I can.
* I’ll never tell you that you saved my life.
* I’ll never be able to tell you what I did, but just know that I’m very sorry.
* You have nothing to worry about. You look incredibly fucking sexy.

On a positive note, I am doing my best to get back on top. I love you all.

This is the very opening of the first story I am writing set in my universe.

Welcome to the very beginning what I've been working on for a year, everyone.

( Read more... )

You know, I'm not sure at all what I was expecting when I started this. I guess I was trying to fix my life?

Either way, mistakes have been made. I need to fix something, I'm just not at all sure how to go about it.

I appreciate everyone helping me right now. Thank you guys, you have no idea how much I love all of you. Sorry I'm being the way I'm being. I don't really know how to handle how I'm acting right now either.

this was all posted in an empty chat. i am a fun guy!

Greg the Paladin: I AM KING OF CHAT
Greg the Paladin: CHAT IS MY REALM NOW
Greg the Paladin: BWA HA HA
Greg the Paladin: I AM A CHAT ELEMENTAL
Greg the Paladin: WATCH ME CHAT WATCH ME CHAT WATCH ME CHAT
Greg the Paladin: I AM THE CHATMAN
Greg the Paladin: LE CHATS ARE CHATASTIC
Greg the Paladin: DO YOU WANT TO BE IN GREG'S CHAT?
Greg the Paladin: BECAUSE YOU CANNOT BE.
Greg the Paladin: ONLY GREG IS ALLOWED IN CHAT
Greg the Paladin: FROM NOW ON, I PROMISE.
Greg the Paladin: THAT IS A PROMISE TO YOU GREG OH MY GOODNESS I LOVE YOU SO MUCH
Greg the Paladin: OH GREG YOU ARE MY FAVORITE PERSON AND YOU ARE MY HERO AND I WANT TO BE JUST LIKE YOU WHEN I GROW UP
Greg the Paladin: WHY THANK YOU GREG I THINK YOU ARE JUST THE CUTEST
Greg the Paladin: I JUST WANT TO HUG YOU FOREVER AND NEVER STOP HUGGING YOU
Greg the Paladin: GREG I THINK YOU ARE MY FAVORITE BEATLE
Greg the Paladin: OH HAHA THANK YOU GREG THAT IS THE NICEST THING
Greg the Paladin: GREG DID YOU KNOW THAT I NAMED MY CHILD AFTER YOU? HER NAME IS GREG AS WELL
Greg the Paladin: WELL SHUCKS GREG WHAT A THING TO DO THAT IS SO DANG SWEET THAT I THINK I WILL PAT YOU ON THE HEAD
Greg the Paladin: *PAT PAT PAT*
Greg the Paladin: oh snap i should turn on text to speech i bet this would be awesome

Somewhere in some secluded castle
Poor Tom Cruise is staring at the wall
And the outside world is always such a hassle
Sometimes he won't go out at all
There are millions who know his name
Everybody loves him
Why is it that he feels so alone?

I'm sure you've all heard by now. GeoCities is closing.

I couldn't tell you my GeoCities page now, or what it was about. But it was important at the time, I promise.

I know it's a hovel of shit and animated GIFs, but it was important. GeoCities is where everyone cut their teeth, where you learned the language of the internet, HTML. It's important. HTML is necessary to get by god dammit, and yes we made a lot of shitty shitty shit but it was our shitty shitty shit, and god willing, we all got better.

It just saddens me that this walled-off garden of crap is dying. It's like /b/, or Gaia, or any other terrible place. It's a phase you go through.

And if it weren't for /b/ or Gaia or GeoCities, those kids would sprawl out into the rest of the internet.

So when we inevitably bump into them, let us not judge them too harshly. Always remember, there but for the grace of god, go us. And there we have all went at some point.

I hate the goddamned spring. I don't care for summer really either, or the warmer half of fall.

Even worse than the bright fucking sun is the transition between shade and sunny spots. Even worse than feeling like a goddamned naked mole rat emerging from the underground hovel, I feel like it's a miniature rapture and I'm one of the unworthy left behind to melt on the earth after the righteous have ascended. I can physically feel the flesh and muscle being flayed from me, being used for sustenance by some terrible eldrich demon.

And the allergens fucking suck too.

There are no words for the sheer elation I am feeling right now.

I literally gasped, and my hands instinctively covered my face.

Hope.

I guess there is nothing I can say that my mom wouldn't panic over, so i'll just say that today was pretty much as bad as I thought it would be.

If anyone doesn't know, I'm on Twitter a lot.

One of the newest features is the "Trending Topics" sidebar, which shows you some of the most popular things being tweeted at the time. Right now, there's things like "Easter" and "Heroes" because that's what people're talking about. It's meant to show what is popular with the masses at any given moment by scanning their speech.

But, and I don't know if this was intended or not, every night from about 10 PM to 3 AM, "Goodnight" becomes a trending topic.

It's everybody wishing the rest of Twitter a good night. It's just a nice little gesture, and a sly way of saying "I'm not going to reply to anyone else until the morning".

But it's incredibly comforting for me.

It comforts me to know that no matter what is going on, things won't stop. Most people, obviously, want to be individuals. A lot of people think of humans and think of conformity, this giant faceless machine, and think it's terrible. But I find this really comforting beauty in it. Even if I break down, I'm only one piece of the machine. If every single thing in my life goes wrong, this great big giant mass of people will pick up the slack so effectively no one will notice that I'm not doing great, and I know that sounds like a cry for help or something, but it's just this amazing thing to me.

It's proof that humanity is graceful and clean and if you smack the giant wibbly-wobbly ball, it doesn't even notice. It just keeps on clinging along.

Goodnight!

Blue lantern rings are useless without a green lantern around. Hope is worthless without the will to use it.

Time to work on that.

SECRET D&D CAMPAIGN IDEA DO NOT STEAL

1: Give the players farmland, each some farm-related weapon (pitchfork, etc)
2: Set during great depression/dust bowl
3: ???
4: HA HA OH WOW BEST CAMPAIGN EVER GUYS GREG YOU ARE SOME KIND OF MASTERMIND.

If I'm really, really lucky, someone will come up with the same idea that /tg/ did, which is "Grow Cocaine".

One year ago, I didn't know the name Zac Effron. I had, however, unknowingly seen him as young Simon Tam on Firefly.

One month ago, I knew Zac Effron was some kid from High School Musical.

One week ago, I started seeing ads for Seventeen Again, starring Zac Effron. I offhandedly made a comment on my Twitter that he is an attractive dude.

Since then, no less than six people have told me that I look like Zac Effron.

I...I mean, cool? I'm taking it as a complement, but...hm. You know? Hm.

I'll start the story not at the beginning, but where I came into it.

In the summer of 2003, I was thirteen years old. In a month or so, I would turn fourteen, and I lived at 1873 Princeton Drive in Toledo Ohio. Easily, more than 60% of my waking moments that summer were spent on the HP Pavilion computer located in the dining room. From that computer, I got a pretty good angle to watch TV, which just as often was tuned to Tech TV, a cable station broadcasting out of San Francisco. One show in particular, X-Play, focused on video games (and coincidentally was the only show to make it through the horrible horrible G4 buyout). And on one particular day in the summer of 2003, they were airing a repeat. A repeat of an episode from the previous year.

I wasn't even paying attention to the episode. I was probably talking to Zach Navarre or Allie Jaeschke on AIM. But X-Play, specifically Adam Sessler if I recall correctly, was reviewing a game I had never heard of, and wouldn't know the name of until 2008. All I could remember was a single line, spoken by a small character in the series. It was delivered with a modulated, yet strangely huffy tone.

"Automatons are not robots!"

Automatons are not robots. And in the universe of that game, automatons were different from robots. I still can't tell you how, but they were. And for years, that line stuck with me. I don't know why, it's one of those small dumb things that sticks with a person for no good reason.

And every couple years I would think about the character who delivered the line, who I never even actually saw. I imagined he looked like another vaguely defined character in a show called Big O, an art-deco style robot that taught the character Dorothy piano. I still don't know what the character looks like.

Anyway, years later I would be laying in my bed, winter break of 2008. As it does every couple months, the line popped into my head. On a lark, I typed it, with quotes, into Google.

The second link was what I was looking for. "Game script for SYBERIA".

Syberia.

I typed it into Wikipedia, and it brought me to the 2002 PC game, created by Benoit Sokal. Here it was, this is the thing that hadn't particularly affected me, but always kept in the corner of my mind. It was like meeting someone you've only ever heard about at a party, and by the end of the night you each feel like you've known each other forever. Everything suddenly fits.

I read the plot of Syberia, the story of American lawyer Kate Walker. Her journey through this world that sounds like everything I've wanted in my entire life. I devoured the page and plot of Syberia 2, released in 2004, which carries on her story. Kate Walker was living the life I always wanted, and I never even knew it.

I thought, as I layed on my bed in that cold night, that the story was over. Maybe someday if I were in an EB Games and digging through the bargain bin, I'd spot a copy and still not have enough to pick it up. But I'll always have my little connection to the game, my little infatuation with Benoit Sokal and Kate Walker and automatons. It was a secret love, not because I wanted to hide it, but because I had no reason to share it with anyone.

Imagine my surprise when I read this.

I know it's an April Fool's joke, but for just a few moments, I was in love all over again.

( (I promise it sounds better spoken.) )

(don't worry, i'm not depressed and am actually doing really well! promise!)