Yay! But fuck. But yay! But fuck.

So Ultra Street Fighter IV is out on Steam now. Yay!
 
 
 
 
But fuck my piece of shit internet connection, I won’t be able to play it until tomorrow because of it.
 
 
 
 
But Capcom decided to make Valve release the game earlier. Yay!
 
 
 
 
But fuck it, this piece of shit connection is gonna drive me nuts.

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On the subject of cleanup…

I scarcely believe this needs to be said, but in addition to the fact that I am a lazy fuck, I feel very little motivation to take the time required to go back to all the old posts and fix dead links, references, and many other things that might not be working now that I’m almost on my fifth year (!) running this place.

If any of you want me to correct something specific, poke me and I’ll try. No guarantees though. :V

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Happy birthday, Jess

Because I have no other way of getting in touch with you, this is the only way to put this out there somehow.

If you read it, great — do send me an email or something, and send me your Skype name too or any other way I can have of contacting you directly. I miss our fun conversations.

Happy birthday, Nyarran!

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9 hours, 9 persons, 9 doors (2)

Motherfucking sudoku.

I refused to fucking look at a guide to solve it so it took me fucking HOURS of crunching numbers, considering it’s been years since I last worked on one.

Zero, you fucking bitch.

[End rant]

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Housekeeping

Did some cleanup on the sidebar. Been a couple of years since I stopped playing SMT Imagine so most of my stuff is not only outdated but probably no longer relevant. Also, because of the closure of the western servers, some friends’ blogs and links became inactive, so took those out too. Will be rewriting some stuff and probably changing the sidebar order soon.

Also took up a cosplay photography gig. Kinda want to see how far I can get with this because the cosplay community is seriously fucking underrepresented in my country.

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For great justice!

 
 

Flame Haze Shana, Buddy Jesus and my small task force of GUNDAM Mobile Suits will protect my work computer from any intruders.

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9 hours, 9 persons, 9 doors (1)

This coffin.

This coffin is an eyesore.

This coffin. This coffin. This coffin. This coffin this coffin this coffin this coffin this coffin this coffin this coffin this coffin THIS COFFIN!!

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STOP THE SLOW LANE

 
 
 

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Stream of consciousness.

It is hard to take back the reins of your conscience when the road it’s taking isn’t even similar in the slightest to the one you had planned. The words come out on their own, flowing from mind and fingers, and plastered on something as real as it is unreal, as solid as it is nonexistent, indelible and undying. However, much worse is the sensation that remains when the storm of feelings and confessions eases off, and the dust settles after the fact, when you realize that the nakedness of the soul is much more shaming and humilliating than any lack of physical clothes.

There’s a million things I want to do right at this moment, and the tears fight amongst themselves trying to reach beyond the borders of my eyelids, but I’m not letting them — I’m in the middle of my goddamn office, supposed to be working. Nevertheless, sheer sadness and the feeling of despair for no apparent reason or motive becomes almost too tough to restrain. As much as it’s been hours of attempting to prevent this, I can feel them, one after the other, the droplets of rage against myself streaming barely down to my nose, as I’m not intending to give them the chance to reach any further, for it puts me at risk of someone in my cubicle noticing that I’m not entirely in control of myself today.

Venting and relieving the weight of accumulated feelings in a heart chock full of inferiority complexes, powerlessness against my own incompetence and pain and rage towards myself is an experience that idealists would probably call liberating, but for me it’s nothing but devastating and depressing. Maybe it’s a necessary evil, maybe it’s not. I don’t regret doing it, however. But the sheer internal destruction this entails is a deep and very painful wound, one that will not scar easily, and that when it does scar, it is one more mark, permanent, eternal, in an already heavily pockmarked surface barely capable of holding one more.

Damn loneliness. Damn destroyed heart. But most of all, damn myself and my own damn weakness.

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The Street Fighter Footsies Handbook, mobile edition

With proper permission from Maj from SonicHurricane.com, I’ve taken the time to figure out how to use and abuse an easily available, overcomplicated, annoying-as-fuck, overly graphically cute software to create ebooks called Calibre (not even gonna bother linking it here), in order to build and publish a mobile ebook version of his world-famous Street Fighter Footsies Handbook. I took the time to create this as, believe it or not, there’s some of us (like myself) in third-world countries that do play Street Fighter frequently and seriously and don’t have mobile data services on our phones in order to be able to freely browse Maj’s site for the handbook.

This mobile ebook version is intended to make it easier to carry the handbook with you, readable in either PDF or EPUB format (both well-known, well-used and extremely portable formats) so you can peruse it whenever you feel like it on your tablet, phone or any other smart device.

You can download the zip with both EPUB and PDF versions of the ebook here.

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