Wednesday, December 29, 2004

Color Test

Free personality analysis from ColorQuiz.com.
Generated on Wed Dec 29 13:21:14 2004.
Your Existing Situation
Having difficulty in making progress. Despite the attempt to conceal impulsiveness, his activities lead to problems and uncertainties, making him tense and irritable.
Your Stress Sources
Wishes to be independent, unhampered, and free from any limitation or restriction, other than those which he imposes of himself or by his own choice and decision.
Your Restrained Characteristics
Believes that he is not receiving his share--that he is neither properly understood nor adequately appreciated. Feels that he is being compelled to conform, and close relationships leave him without any sense of emotional involvement.

Feels trapped in a distressing or uncomfortable situation and seeking some way of gaining relief. Able to achieve satisfaction from sexual activity.

Feels rather isolated and alone, but is too reserved to allow himself to form deep attachments. Egocentric and therefore quick to take offense.

Egocentric and therefore quick to take offense. Able to obtain physical satisfaction from sexual activity but tends to hold aloof emotionally.

Your Desired Objective
Needs a way of escape from all that oppresses him and is clinging to vague and illusory hopes.
Your Actual Problem
Feels restricted and prevented from progressing; seeking a solution which will remove these limitations.
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Well, I suppose its good I can get off... Color is a funny thing.

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Sunday, December 26, 2004

Since 9/11, why are more people afraid to fly then to go into sky-scrapers? More people died in the sky-scrapers, right? Why are we trying to improve airport security when we need to make our buildings plane proof? As idiotic as it is, it might be more realistic then current airport regulations.
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Friday, December 24, 2004

Another year almost down

Ya know, every year I start off expecting a better year then the last. As if inevitable, each gets worse in surprising and interesting ways. So Fuck it... I expect this year to suck. No resolutions, no delusions of grandeur, and no hope of luck improving. I'm looking forward to this being the worst year EVER.

Happy New Year everyone! See you in the bomb shelter.
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Tuesday, December 21, 2004

Etymology of spontaneous retardation.

spontaneous retardation.
Originally uploaded by drogulus.
Let me just tell you how much I love running on three hours of sleep. I have my quasi-retarded friends to thank for their gradually worsening disputes which finally came to a head last night. We had all planned on not arguing, so instead we decided it was best to settle on talking about non-controversial topics -- like the Middle East, while drinking Rum & Guinness of course.

Keeping in character of past discussions, the problem had nothing to do with the actual point of debate at all, but instead became a dissertation as to why a person shouldn't interrupt (which seems to be the grave-site for just about every drunken conversation the three of us have had for about a year now). Friend A has fairly poor listening skills. So poor, that even though this dissertation has been started in various incarnations all year, from both me and my friend B, Friend A has not let it finish without interrupting. Sometimes claiming things like, "I do NOT interrupt." Or interrupting that he has gotten so much better at not interrupting. Or explaining at length about his mad-uber listening skills which multi-task and process ALL information in his domain. He has actually suggested that our conversations would be much more productive if we all talked at the same time (because obviously, that's better if you're a good listener. Think about it.) The fact appears to be though, that Friend A is conscious of little else other than his own grating voice. Most people remember vivid experiences of their lives, Friend A seems to have notes on a roll of mental toilet paper which he refers to about these events. His recollection of past events seems more like he's remembering his own commentary on the events rather then really remembering the real sequential facts of what happened. None of these personality points are improved by drinking. Not to be misunderstood, Friend A is a good, loyal friend with integrity, imagination, and ambition who has helped me out on many occasions and generally tries to make a bad situation better. But sometimes I just feel like killing him. We've known each other since high school. We didn't really get along until I punched him in the face one day, and we got to know each other during in school suspension (that's another story). I'm not the only one who's felt like committing some act of violence to him. Why, just last week someone who met him three weeks ago was telling me that she felt like killing him for a conversation they had. My response was,"Eh, he does this. Try not to hold it against him."

Friend B certainly possesses his share of personality and social quirks. Probably more, and he'll be the first to call himself an asshole. He can be brutally abrasive, he's never on time (plus he stalls), and although his recollection is often better then even mine, the story he tells is often purposefully misleading, fabrications for entertainment value, or just something to generally provoke anger. His particular, slow to the point dissertation on interruption is designed to drive Friend A completely insane (not that Friend A's any better for falling for it EVERY time).

We've all known each other for over a decade, and have all had our various falling outs. This one was plainly stupid. Friend A used the word "Etymology" in an unusual context. Friend B immediately demands Friend A's definition of the word because it sounded like Bullshit. The definition was nowhere near. He insisted, shouted and interrupted that he knew that this was the definition of the word, swore up and down and insisted i pull up his BLOG as if it's some great reference for looking up words. So I pull up dictionary.com. As soon as I type "Etymolology" He's like, "NO, That's not the word!!" Even though that is what he said, I started checking the suggested "could this word be:" list for what the fuck he could have meant. Amidst the yelling and screaming, Friend A charges at Friend B to be met with three punches to the chin from Friend B. I briefly thought about breaking this up, but I figured this had been a long time in coming and they needed to get it out of their system, so I went back to checking words. I finally stopped it when Friend A had Friend B in a choke hold and was beating him about head. Friend A wasn't at all hurt, while Friend B had bit his tongue fairly badly in the scuffle (causing him to speak like, "Frenze schull en fight." for the rest of the evening. ) So, I told Friend A, that none of the words on the list were this famous, important word. We checked his Blog (bastion of knowledge that it is, and all), and it turns out the word he meant was "Ethnographer" and insisted for the rest of the night that this is what he had said all along (they're just so similar, right?). So of course, this eventually degrades into another fist fight (how else do people sort these things out, ya know?). After that, it turned into a mutual exchange of personal attacks, and then into me and Friend B explaining to Friend A that he has a shitty swiss cheese memory on top of being a lunatic, and his recollection of even his own grating voice was provably distorted from reality. He can't even manage to listen to himself. So he storms out. Leaving me to drive Friend B home when I had to be awake in three hours. He was nice enough to return to pick him up though. I wonder if they killed each other on the ride home.

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Sunday, December 19, 2004


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Originally uploaded by drogulus.

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The Bitter Drink

On the sofa, the grease stains were like a coat of yellow vinyl.
Bitter eyes greet the prospect of sightlessness.
He granted her one last picture in the form of ice.
In pools of red, thick juice, the frenzied pair pressed and rubbed into burning oil.
Ice scratched the bare wool away and left ash in the smokeless hallway.
They wandered into poisoned throats, spilling into them spice.
The air burns, it thickens and chokes hope.
Needles and sores cover flesh like a field of grass.
Spider-like limbs bent her around the road to get there faster.
They mangled in murky malaise toward a swampy death in one-another's arms.
Compulsive and desperate wishes cry for closure.
Enraptured and engorged en-route behind a truckload of misery,
they ended in massacre.
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