Why, with the giant bright red and green and yellow and blue squares, WHY.
Started Kingdom Hearts last night, only ten years too late or whatever, and got stuck in the first real town. This is, mind you, a game made for six-year-olds. I was tired? Um? (I know it has to do with the crates; I just have to laugh at my own 3xtr33m stupidity. :( I could have gotten a walkthrough from GameFAQs, but the point where I get a walkthrough for A GAME MADE FOR SIX-YEAR-OLDS - on "normal" difficulty, no less - I may as well kill myself.)
Action battle system, though. Yay. In my senility, I have started to get bored more easily with menu-based systems than with tactical or action-based. Of course, my powergaming habit has something to do with that, since level-racking for hours at a clip is less boring with action and tactical systems.
By coincidence, after skimming my old files on Friday, I ended up skimming through somewhat older photos on Sunday. Like age 10-17. Bad times. Or so I thought. Turns out, despite my impressions that my life was going okay now and was crappy back then, I was thinner in high school than I am now. AGHHHHHHHHHHHHH WTF.
'Round fourth grade I wasn't doing so well, but after that um not so much. I was still heinously ugly, but not AS heinously ugly, and that really makes me want to scream. I hated, ha-ted, everything then, and it wasn't even partly mitigated as it is now. I didn't rationalize like I do now, all "Oh, if I manage to develop a skill or make myself useful to others, maybe it'll be permissible for me to keep living." No, it was pretty much pure contempt. I plotted suicide in senior year because I knew I could never be a part of normal society. AND I WAS DOING BETTER THAN I AM NOW AAAAAAAAAAAARGGGHGHHHH WTF YOU STUPID LITTLE PRE-EMO WHINER.
Just...ugh.
My habits weren't terribly healthy - I didn't exercise a whole lot (about an hour walking a day, but not strenuously, and a little sporadic aerobics) and binged without that all-important purging, because throwing up is gross - but apparently IT WAS WORKING BECAUSE WHAT THE GREEN FUCK.
Excuse my rage, please.
I'm REALLY glad I wasn't invited to my ten-year reunion, then. Damn.
*breath*
My one bright spot in all of this is that I could not dress myself worth a damn back then. Especially in elementary through early high school. Late high school I toned down a bit, but not always. But earlier on there's definitely a trend of dressing like complete ass. Ginormous glasses. GINORMOUS. Edna-from-The Incredibles ginormous, with ginormous plastic frames, on my ginormous moon face, and tinted lenses. For a while I had frames that were translucent plastic blue shading down to pink and lenses tinted to match, blue shaded down to clear shaded down to pink, because for some ungodly reason I thought that was cool, and no sane adult stopped me. Sweatshirts with sequins. SEQUINS. I mean, I was an 8-10-year-old in the late '80s, not the best era for suburban fashion, but still.
Here's where I get down and thank the patron saint of optometry for high-index lenses. Because back then they told me that I had to have thick plastic frames, that I couldn't wear wire-frame glasses, ever, because the lenses were too thick. Oh-ho-ho, just you wait. Circa 1997, technology will turn in MY favor and I will come out of several years of sometimes miserable contact-wearing to find that they now make glasses that I like, that are actually smaller than my entire head. And then, then I will be at peace. With untinted lenses.
Later on, in middle/high school, there was just rampant bad taste. There were far, far, far too many vests. Suede vests. Vests with stars and planets. So many vests that the word "vest" stops meaning anything and starts making me giggle like a stoner. Vest vest vest vest vest. One of my school pictures (10th?) has me in a long-sleeved T-shirt, a vest with a clock pattern on it, a necklace with a watch face on it (not Flava Flav size, a small watch, not that that helps) TO MATCH, and my hair parted on the side and flumped over my face as though I could pull that look off, which I can't.
I'd say "Mom, why on earth did you let me leave the house looking like such a moron?", but she was kind of busy at the time working her ass off, and all.
I also wore so many unbelievably bad sweaters that for a few years, recently, I hardly wore sweaters at all. Over the last five years I think I owned one. Now I'm not sure I have any.
...
I may be house-sized, but I can, to a small extent, dress myself without looking entirely ridiculous.
And that's why life is okay now.
That's my rationalization; don't burst my bubble.
The end.
Action battle system, though. Yay. In my senility, I have started to get bored more easily with menu-based systems than with tactical or action-based. Of course, my powergaming habit has something to do with that, since level-racking for hours at a clip is less boring with action and tactical systems.
By coincidence, after skimming my old files on Friday, I ended up skimming through somewhat older photos on Sunday. Like age 10-17. Bad times. Or so I thought. Turns out, despite my impressions that my life was going okay now and was crappy back then, I was thinner in high school than I am now. AGHHHHHHHHHHHHH WTF.
'Round fourth grade I wasn't doing so well, but after that um not so much. I was still heinously ugly, but not AS heinously ugly, and that really makes me want to scream. I hated, ha-ted, everything then, and it wasn't even partly mitigated as it is now. I didn't rationalize like I do now, all "Oh, if I manage to develop a skill or make myself useful to others, maybe it'll be permissible for me to keep living." No, it was pretty much pure contempt. I plotted suicide in senior year because I knew I could never be a part of normal society. AND I WAS DOING BETTER THAN I AM NOW AAAAAAAAAAAARGGGHGHHHH WTF YOU STUPID LITTLE PRE-EMO WHINER.
Just...ugh.
My habits weren't terribly healthy - I didn't exercise a whole lot (about an hour walking a day, but not strenuously, and a little sporadic aerobics) and binged without that all-important purging, because throwing up is gross - but apparently IT WAS WORKING BECAUSE WHAT THE GREEN FUCK.
Excuse my rage, please.
I'm REALLY glad I wasn't invited to my ten-year reunion, then. Damn.
*breath*
My one bright spot in all of this is that I could not dress myself worth a damn back then. Especially in elementary through early high school. Late high school I toned down a bit, but not always. But earlier on there's definitely a trend of dressing like complete ass. Ginormous glasses. GINORMOUS. Edna-from-The Incredibles ginormous, with ginormous plastic frames, on my ginormous moon face, and tinted lenses. For a while I had frames that were translucent plastic blue shading down to pink and lenses tinted to match, blue shaded down to clear shaded down to pink, because for some ungodly reason I thought that was cool, and no sane adult stopped me. Sweatshirts with sequins. SEQUINS. I mean, I was an 8-10-year-old in the late '80s, not the best era for suburban fashion, but still.
Here's where I get down and thank the patron saint of optometry for high-index lenses. Because back then they told me that I had to have thick plastic frames, that I couldn't wear wire-frame glasses, ever, because the lenses were too thick. Oh-ho-ho, just you wait. Circa 1997, technology will turn in MY favor and I will come out of several years of sometimes miserable contact-wearing to find that they now make glasses that I like, that are actually smaller than my entire head. And then, then I will be at peace. With untinted lenses.
Later on, in middle/high school, there was just rampant bad taste. There were far, far, far too many vests. Suede vests. Vests with stars and planets. So many vests that the word "vest" stops meaning anything and starts making me giggle like a stoner. Vest vest vest vest vest. One of my school pictures (10th?) has me in a long-sleeved T-shirt, a vest with a clock pattern on it, a necklace with a watch face on it (not Flava Flav size, a small watch, not that that helps) TO MATCH, and my hair parted on the side and flumped over my face as though I could pull that look off, which I can't.
I'd say "Mom, why on earth did you let me leave the house looking like such a moron?", but she was kind of busy at the time working her ass off, and all.
I also wore so many unbelievably bad sweaters that for a few years, recently, I hardly wore sweaters at all. Over the last five years I think I owned one. Now I'm not sure I have any.
...
I may be house-sized, but I can, to a small extent, dress myself without looking entirely ridiculous.
And that's why life is okay now.
That's my rationalization; don't burst my bubble.
The end.