Update

Okay. So.

I know that you people haven't seen much of me on here lately and I apologize. Also, by "you people" I mean the Russian scraper robots who seem to be really interested in what I have to say. And by "what I have to say" I mean the sparkly gifs that I embed among my angsty keyboard flailing.

...But I've digressed.

I thought I'd give the robots a little update on my life. Because what the hell.

____________________

I'm going to college, taking Cultural Anthropology from Patricia Taber, one of the cooler people I've met thus far.

I have formed a classroom alliance (I refuse to use the term "study buddy") with a girl in my class, and she's super cool and nice.

I have not picked a major, but I'm thinking about taking some child development courses with the aim of becoming a special ed kindergartner teacher. Because I like children.

I'm also thinking about becoming a dentist. Because I want to stick sharp things in people's mouths.

Yu Gi Oh kid moved to Portland.

Shanti moved away to a location I probably won't disclose.

Talon and I haven't talked.

Cooper is also taking college, so I don't see him that often. We text a lot, though. I recently got a Droid Ultra Android. It's pretty schwanky.

We finally found a home for our obese beagle. He lives with Deina and Naomi now.

I'm getting closer to my coworkers and I'm almost to the point where I can probably see them outside of work with minimal stress.

Mom has a cool nerdy boyfriend who also served in the military as a paratrooper (I believe). He's a paramedic now, but he doesn't like it very much because he gets lots of false alarm calls and no sleep.

I'm working on my blackbelt in Aikido, which is cool but really scary.

I hurt my right knee, so now I walk like an old man when it rains or I push myself too hard.

I still get depressed every so often, but I don't really have the time to deal with strong emotions, so I ignore it.

I've gone down from 3 panic attacks per week to about 1.

I've been seeing a therapist, which is funny because I'm bad at verbally talking about my problems. I'm slowly getting the hang of it, though.

I don't have writer's block any more, but I still haven't found the time to write. I do know where I'm going with my huge, all OC cast, novel-length Star Trek fanfic and I've pretty much nailed down the plot.

Cancer has caught up to my grandfather. It took about a decade and I think he's technically a survivor now.

He's told me that he's proud of me and that I'm a smart kid.

He gave me his car.

I fixed the horrible huge banner on the site.

I think I'm also going to change the background again.

___________________

Anyway, I just wanted to say that I'm NOT dead. I'm sorry if I scared you, little robots.

I will try to post again, maybe sometime in the next month or so.

Live long and prosper.

Vengeance for Kelly Thomas

Something really fucked up happened recently.

Kelly Thomas was a schizophrenic man living on the streets of Fullerton. As far as I can tell, he wasn't violent and he didn't cause trouble.
Despite this, the police found reason to search him. When he refused and turned away from them, they hit him with a nightstick.
He pleaded for help, but they kept beating him. One of the two officers pulled on some rubber gloves and said "Now you see my fists? They’re getting ready to fuck you up."
They beat him to near-death while Kelly cried for his father. They broke every bone in his face. He died in the hospital several days later.
(I'm not going to share a picture of his face because it's pretty bloody. If you have a strong stomach however, you should look it up.)
All of this was caught on camera.

The two officers were brought to trial with charges of second degree murder, manslaughter, and excessive use of force. The jury found them not guilty on all charges.
The jury saw this video, saw the remains of the man's face, and they found these bastards not guilty. They claimed that they were "just doing their job."
It is not an officer's place to beat anyone to death, whether they be a child molester or just a homeless man.
I can't believe that any person could watch this and believe that these men were in the right.

I am horrified that this jury let the beating of a helpless man slide. I am horrified that no one reported this.
I am even more horrified by the fact that these officers want their jobs back. That's right. These assholes might get back on the streets.
I'm not really sure what we can do about this besides spread the word. These men will not be convicted of murder, but with our help, maybe they'll never hold a government job again.

No Malware Here!

Hi! A few days ago, XTREMEchibiFace was reported as possibly harboring malware. I am sorry if this freaked you out and I just want to let ya know that it wasn't a problem and your computer was not in immediate danger of being infected.

Here's what happened:
A blog in the in the list of blogs I follow is listed as 'suspicious' because, recently, it's been infected by malware. Connecting their blog to mine exposed this site to infection. If this infection took hold, this place would become a malware-spreading, spirk-spewing middleman from fangirl hell.
HOWEVER, this did NOT happen because I fixed it.

TL;DR: *
This site was not infected. It will not be infected. Your computer is (probably) not infected.

Chrome is amazing at protecting us from malicious software and I applaud it for working to make the Tubes a better place.

Again, sorry for the scare.
-Rahel



*"Too long, didn't read."

Instagram Is in the Eye of the Beholder

For many years, people have strived to perfect the art of photography, studying lighting, framing techniques, filters, and building darkrooms.
Then, one dark and stormy night, a monster was borne from the minds of two well-intentioned software engineers-
INSTAGRAM.
Well, not just Instagram. There are many good photography programs out there (Hipsamatic springs to mind), but Instagram is a big one.
Anyway, everyone is now an amateur photographer, carrying the means to create beautiful pictures around in their pocket.
This has troubled a lot of people. I'm not a photographer, but I like art and at first I was saddened by this. Photographers that have spent their lives learning how to work a camera are being threatened by this new technology. Now, I know that this technology is a thousand times greater in the hands of these photographers, but it's still a little sad.
Finally, I realized something- these photo-editing programs are actually helping photography. Here's how.

Look at Ansel Adams, a very popular photographer. You've probably seen his work on huge office inspirational posters- probably with the caption "Freedom" in crappy typography.

T H E   A S P H A L T   L O O K S   L O N E L Y

Anyway, this guy's work is good. Why, though? Here are some reasons that instantly come to my mind:

1. The resolution is amazing
2. The shots are beautifully framed
3. The shots show Adams' awe of the power of nature

But what makes this guy so special even now in this age of rapidly progressing technology? 

Resolution? I think not. The resolution on a lot of smartphone cameras is more impressive.

The positioning and the way it's framed? Crop tools can help with that.

That leaves one element- Adam's point of view.

People still love this guy's work because they show his view of the world. You can just imagine him waiting on a hill before dawn, planning his shot and waiting for the sun to rise so that he can capture that breathless moment when day breaks, sending rays of light creeping over the valley. You can feel him behind the camera of every photo, and his excitement is palpable.

This is why new technology will help photography. It isn't enough to quickly snap a picture of your mocaccino, then crop it and tint it sepia. Hell, it isn't even enough without the cropping and coloring. If people don't get a sense of you in the picture, they will see your work as just another boring Instagram pic. You have to let them feel the tension of a dozen coffee addicts in a small steamy room, smell the coffee in the air, and taste your impatience for your drink to cool. You have to take the viewer's hand and invite them into your little pocket of time, let them stay a while in this little universe that was previously only visable to you.

THIS is photography. THIS is art. And just because you can now doctor the hell out of a somewhat-decent photo doesn't make photography itself obsolete. In fact, it might just save it.



PS: To all you people who take pictures of coffee: I am not judging you. One of my best friends does this and, as much as I tease him for it, it does not make him less fun to hang out with. In fact, I would love nothing more then to sit around with you people and critique your photographs of coffee. Heck, if any of you want to do that I'd be game. Just email 'em to me and I'll post 'em! The series of posts could be called "BEST HIPSTER PICS OF THE MONTH AWARDS" and I'd give the winner five bucks. I'm totally serious.

Beagle Puke!

My obese beagle has lost some weight and has suddenly gained a lot of energy. When I came home today, he pelted around the house until I let him into the front yard. Then he ran in circles around me as fast as he could until he got worn out. Then he recovered and chased his tail until he puked.
No, seriously. He puked.
I think that I like dogs.

Update

For some reason, I felt like giving people an update on the happenings in my life. No idea if anyone gives a shit about these posts, but I'm gonna do it anyway because I'm a sadistic bastard.

So, here goes.

I got a dog. He is an obese beagle named Taser. He's about nine and a little bit of a handfull, but he's mostly chill.

One of my friends is in New Mexico, but I think she's visiting soon. <waves/> I miss her.

One of my other friends (the one that I was angsting about) sent me an email yesterday to wish me a happy halloween, so I'm glad that she thinks of me. I think of her a lot.

I marathoned Welcome to Night Vale and listened to 31 episodes in two weeks, so now I'm caught up with the series. OH GOD WHY.

I've been watching a shit ton of Nostalgia Critic, so I keep coming into conversations about movies with "Ooo! I just saw a critique of that!" I've got to stop doing that.

Cooper is in college, studying furiously and getting good grades.

My maternal grandfather has terminal cancer. They just put him on morphine, so I'm not sure how next year is gonna be.

My step-mom is pregnant with another kid. This one is a girl. I hear sleepless nights in my future.

I'm still not depressed, but I'm not feeling upbeat either. Still, better to be moody and deadpan then terrified and sad!

My sister is going to get her blackbelt in Aikido. It's gonna be rad.

I've been drawing a bit and I've become much better. I should post some of my work some time soon.

The only thing that makes me happy right now without a huge negative crash afterward is podcasts*, math, and work. Sure, it's a neutral and sedated kind of happy, but it's way better then rainbows and laughing children swiftly followed  by sobbing and darkness. I have yet to learn why my moods keep doing this. In the meantime, I will take happiness in small diluted portions.

Desmond, my little brother, turned 1 last week. He is adorable and gaining a better grasp of language. ...Which means that I need to stop cussing. Shit.

My cat disappeared. She was badass, but I think that the opossum got her. I swear, I will murder that little fucker when I get my hands on him.

...That's all I've got for now. Until next time.

*Radiolab, Welcome to Night Vale, The Thrilling Adventure Hour, and How to Do Everything

Roses are Crocodiles of the Mind

"Stop to smell the roses!" People tell me when I worry. "You're young!" They say. "Live a little!"

To that I always want to reply "I take it that's what you've done? That explains why you live on unemployment and have a kid in Oregon that you never see."

I don't though. I just duck my head and say "True, true." Which is what I tend to say when I'm stumped for what so say next or I don't agree with your statement.

Since I was a little kid, I've been really weird about time. Now, I'm not talking about managing time (although that's always been a huge issue). I'm talking about the passage of time and how it relates to me.

I remember my Dad explaining the plot line of Blade Runner to me. "You see, you might be a replicant and not even know it," He said in the conspiratorial tone he always uses when he tries to trip me out. "All of your memories might be fake all the way up to this point."

This did not sit well with me. I'd be playing with dinosaurs on the floor and think "Well, did that conversation actually happen? What about what I'm thinking right now? What is now? How long does it last? Is it years? Months? Weeks? ...Seconds?"

When faced with existential questions like this, I tend to come to the realization that it really doesn't matter. In this case, that never happened. Time is one of those things that you just don't mess with.

I tried to just forget about it. Push it into the back of my mind. Still, it lurked and brooded in the shadows and swamps of my brain like a Nile crocodile waiting patiently for its next meal. It started to drive me crazy. I'd be playing peacefully one moment, then it would hit. That otherworldly feeling- like deja vu except more physical. More dangerous. I would start counting out seconds obsessively, wondering which one was real. Would it really make a difference anyway, though? I wasn't sure, but by god I would find out.

After months of freaking out about this periodically, I had the pleasure of watching Spaceballs. There's this great scene where Darth Helmet and his henchman find the Spaceballs movie and, in one of the most meta scenes ever, fast forward through it, hoping to find the whereabouts of their enemies.

However, they go too far and find themselves watching themselves watching themselves watching themselves... Watching themselves. Darth gets all impatient and demands to know when "then will be now." The henchman replies "Soon."

This kinda stuck with me. "Maybe," I thought "If I don't focus on the past 'nows' and focus on the 'soons' instead, I won't freak out so much."

And it's worked. I now think way into the future, always chasing that 'soon' and running, breathless, from that 'now.'

Still, every so often (usually when looking at sunbeams, oddly enough), I feel that 'now' sneaking up on me and I feel lost, counting out the seconds and breathing my first breath of the day every single moment, until I get a grip on myself and barrel onward, not caring where I end up just so long as it's not here.

Stupid roses.