This is my first video of Need For Speed Payback
I started making a Pokemon game. Here are a few screenshots.
This email will probably not get read by Louis CK. This blog post might not get read by anyone here on wordpress either. If there’s anything I have to say, it’s that if you love Louis CK, you should watch Horace and Pete, his latest show which I just found out about yesterday. Enjoy.
Hi Louis, I hope this email reaches you.
I might have to start blogging again soon and document my past few crazy months. For now, I worry that the wrong person might read it and ruin what little professional career I have. Truthfully, I’m actually probably just being too lazy to write it at the moment. Let me just tease that there are multiple girls involved including some moms. There’s some home-wrecking involved…. I joke about it now because nothing’s really happened yet but I think I’m about to fuck up my life inside out.
A few months back I wrote a blog entry joking about my small penis. I didn’t think much of it but for some reason it gets a lot of attention (the blog entry, I can only wish dick got attention). Last time I dabbled in stand up, I brought a female friend and she brought another friend along. I wasn’t doing too hot and then the psychic who brought me up told me to talk about my small penis. Once I said those two magic words, I could see the two girls get instantly interested. I think talking about small penises has a lot of power and with great power comes great responsibilities. If I talk about it, I better have something interesting or funny to say because I don’t want to feel like I’m just trolling for attention.
Just like any other blog entries, the small penis one eventually fell into obscurity, which is fine. A few days ago, my girlfriend broke up with me and that very same day, a random girl commented on it telling me she liked small penises and that I shouldn’t be sad over nothing. She said she might have a small penis fetish. I looked at her twitter and she has an overly sexualized account. I don’t know if that comment was genuine or if she was trying to get more view on her twitter or if she was just trolling. Either way though, it still felt good to get some positive feedback.
A lot of times when someone commits suicide, people wonder what was going through their head, why they did it, and how come they didn’t tell people about their pains and sorrow. A lot of times, the people who talk a lot about suicide only talk about it for the attention. I talk about suicidal thoughts pretty openly; I haven’t done it yet; I’d hate to think I’m in that obnoxious latter group.
Talking about suicide is pretty pointless. I have plenty of friends and family who genuinely don’t want me to die, but they don’t really care about me. For one reason or another, I simply don’t have anyone who really cares about me. I have several great friends who I get along really well with, but it’s not their obligation to feed me and keep me alive. Talking about suicide with them just becomes a bummer because there isn’t much they can say or do. They voice their opinion about not wanting me to die, but there isn’t much else they can do. From the way I talk about suicide fairly lightly, it would be an overreaction for them to do anything more.
When I’m in this suicidal state, it actually feels bad for me to help others. The nicer I am to others, the more pain I’ll be creating when I die inexplicably. On the surface, I don’t appear to be hopeless. I can muster a lot of energy to perform well in tasks but there’s just no motivation for me to do it on my own, for myself. This past month, I helped 4 different people move; I helped my friend’s mom with a spreadsheet last night and went to the gym and got in a good workout with my friend; I’ve also been biking, running, and playing basketball with some other friends too. Today, I was playing an online game and my new online friend randomly asked if I knew how to program and I spent the next few hours helping him with his school project. It’s not like I’m slob who can’t muster the energy to do anything and it’s not like I’m hopelessly stupid, but I simply don’t have the motivation to do it for my own personal survival.
Even this blog entry feels pointless. I’m either going to get people telling me not to commit suicide which is nice and all but it doesn’t really change anything. Or worse yet, I might get no responses and I’ll feel even more like no one cares. But I haven’t written anything in a while so I guess this is something… I don’t know…
I am like a mouse and 9 to 5 is my maze that I’m constantly trying to find a way out of. I don’t really care if there is a piece of cheese waiting for me on the outside or not. All that matters is that I find a way out without getting my tail snapped off. As many as you working stiffs like myself may know, it’s not an easy task.
There was this one desperate idea that I came up with. The plan would be to have a rich homosexual man fall in love with me. I figure if the majority of heterosexual males lust after Asian women then the majority of homosexual males feel the same towards Asian guys. I keep my body in pretty decent shape, look young for my age, I naturally have very little body hair and I’ve even had a stripper comment on…
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What the fuck is motivation? Whatever it is, I am severely lacking in it. Many things in my life have been slowly building up to the current perfect fucked up state it is in right now. The false appearance of being relatively healthy on the surface makes things worse. This entry might not make a lot of sense. I don’t know if there’s any order to present my problems that makes it easiest to understand.
Motivation to live is important. By default, people would want to avoid as much discomfort as possible. Dying isn’t comfortable so it’s very natural to have a motivation to live, and to live well. Why am I missing that? Depression is a part of it but where the hell did that come from? I know I’m never really depressed when I’m hanging out with friends, but that doesn’t happen very often. People have lives and they’re busy. I always feel like a burden if I try to make plans with people so I end up never really making plans. I also have an aversion to going out and all that shit. I got off track a bit. How did I lose the default desire to be comfortable? Well, part of it is because I’ve been getting used to coping with the discomforts of life. Every life has its sets of discomforts and people need to learn to deal with them. The way I dealt with it in my life is by sheer endurance. After a while, I’ve learned to endure more and more shitty things. I’ve learned to endure hunger. Starvation doesn’t really bother me much. No food? No problem. It’s not that I don’t feel the discomforts of a growling stomach, but I can deal with it very easily. That is not a good thing because it removes my motivation to work for money for food. Plus, being in the first world environment I live in, there’s enough unwanted leftovers for me to get obese off of.
I’ve put my endurance to the test. As a self-challenged weight loss regimen, I’ve forced myself to sit in hot baths and sweat like crazy. The water heater isn’t set hot enough so I would boil pots of water and add that to the bath to make it hotter. Often times, it’s too hot to jump in at first. After taking these baths several times a day, everyday for over a week, I was gradually able to get into hotter and hotter water, and enduring the discomfort. One time, my limbs started to get numb. I continued staying in the bath until I started to very numb and something didn’t seem right. I went into the shower to cool down and kept drinking shower water because I was so dehydrated. It took a long time before I started feeling normal again. I’m pretty sure my body was actually dying at that point. It was tough to get in, and stay in, such hot water, but by the time my body was numbing and shutting down, it was actually pretty easy to just stay in the tub until I died… or passed out… or whatever. This sounds like a bullshit exaggerated anecdote but I believe it. If it sounds retarded, it’s probably because I cooked a bunch of brain cells from those baths.
Being able to endure death along with the occasional desire to die from depression is not a good combination. Another motivation to work hard and live a successful life is so that other people don’t think you’re a loser. Being a loser sucks. I’ve accidentally removed the aversion of being a loser in my life. In attempts to being funny, I’ve learned to take jokes at my expense. I can identify my own flaws and blow them up for humor. I joke about being a loser way too much. I can do that so easily with my friends because I’ve already proven that I’m not a “real”l loser, whatever that means. I’ve accomplished enough in my life that all my friends acknowledge my intellect. This way, I can freely brag about how I’m being such a failure in life without feeling utterly worthless. Failure has become a choice and a way of life.
Then there’s my ingrained cheapness. I’ve been raised not to enjoy spending money and I’m now fully conditioned not to enjoy things. A big part of depression is not being able to enjoy life. I’ve literally been raised to be depressed. A normal person growing up would learn that they need to earn their own money so they can spend it. My blind endurance allowed me to simply not enjoy the things that money can buy so I don’t need to earn money.
… I was hoping that writing this would help me discover something about myself but I just feel like more of a loser for how poorly this is written. I could go on but I don’t feel like this is getting anywhere. I’m actually getting paid to make a game right now and I’ve been procrastinating from it forever. fuck fuck fuck. I need to work. I don’t know why I can’t apply my blind endurance to work. It’s fucked up. I currently want to play Path of Exile but I’ve indulged enough that I need to stop. I can apply my endurance to not play the game and attempt to work, but I just end up staring at the screen and not working. Maybe it’s because I have a neverending amount of work. I don’t know. I’m tired of being depressed. I hope I can get some work done after posting this. I gotta…
This is not a great version of the game to see, but you can see it at: http://tedgaming.com/skid_row/
arrow keys to move, ctrl to attack and Z to change weapon.
This past month, there have been three incidents that something bad happened to someone else and it wasn’t my fault. However, I still feel guilty because the bad thing wouldn’t have happened if I wasn’t there. It’s really weird to explain but I’ll just go ahead and describe those incidents.
The first one was me doing that last stand up comedy thing. Without going into too much detail, The psychic got into a fight with his band about bringing me up on stage more and he left the band for a few weeks. I don’t know if I would even do it justice explaining the situation further so I’ll just leave it at that. There was already tension in the band and the fight was gonna happen eventually and it wasn’t my fault for sucking too much or anything, but the specific fight wouldn’t have happened if I didn’t show up to do the stand up gig.
The next incident is when my girlfriend visiting Toronto. We were taking a walk and we were getting home for dinner and I instigated a little run. After running about 10 seconds, I… I just got bored about writing this entry. The topic is still sort of interesting but I lost interest in my examples. I’ll just finish it though. After 10 seconds, I suggested to stop but she kept running and her phone fell out of her pocket and the screen cracked some more. It was already previously cracked and if she had listened to stop running, it wouldn’t have broken. Even still, it’s not really my fault that she didn’t keep her phone safe. I wasn’t sprinting away or anything. Once again, not my fault, but it wouldn’t have happened if it weren’t for me.
The last example is at my friend, Justin’s house. His girlfriend was there and she was sitting with a cup of tea while we were trying to troubleshoot a printer. I had been sickly that day and after a while, I gestured being tired and she offered for me to sit on the couch too. The couch was messy and whilst moving to make room for me, she knocked over her tea and broke the cup. Just like the theme of this whole thing, it wasn’t my fault, but it wouldn’t have happened if I weren’t there.
I don’t know how to feel about all this. Today also marks the 6th day I’ve got all diarrhea so I guess this is the story of my life going to shit.