Yodo's · Stories

Oh yes, I wrote once...

My entire brain hurts.

Yes, all guys suck.
Why, though, do so few people admit that all girls do too?

My sister's (5 now, still a terror. STOP THOSE GODDAMN "AWWW"S.) first and foremost request to Santa was "a puter that you put a CD in and it plays a game." This seriously worries me.
"Why, Ben?" You ask. "What makes you worry about your sister wanting computer games? Isn't that what you wanted all through your childhood? Didn't you play computer games pretty much every day of your life since you were 6?"
It feels like that, sometimes. It really does. But when I actually think about my childhood, while there were a few hours of computer games, it was hard to get good and addicted to shareware games on a 486. While SkiFree will always be dear to my heart, I wouldn't say the addiction really began till I was close to 14.
"Is it because she's a girl? It is, isn't it? You chauvinist bastard."
Not really, no. It's more that she's 5 years old. I know from experience that while you can meet lovely people on the interwebs, sitting out of the sun's grasp and tapping away at a keyboard isn't the most social or physically engaging of activities. And at 5, she should really be partaking in the more active bits of life, not seeking the dark embrace of a room you can play the latest games in without glare.
And of course there's the guilt bit.
"What guilt bit, you self-obsessed nutbag?"
Well, I didn't really realise this until she added to the list "A radio that's an iPod like the one you have", but she's never been on a computer before. She only wants it because computers take up a large part of the lives of her father and I. Which of course leaves me feeling kind of guilty because the stupid little thing idolises me despite all efforts at dissuading her (Like, seriously. Shrieks of joy and jumpings upon whenever I enter a room even if I consistently make her cry within 10 seconds of her doing so) and I repay it by avoiding her as often as possible, mostly taking the form of fleeing to my room and playing on a computer.
In other words, I think she's after a computer because at home she's lonely.
Of course, being as sedentary as somebody who gets everywhere by walking and spends 4 hours a week learning to kill can be, always being tired and not actually able to have any sort of consequential conversation with her, I'm rarely inclined to bother to keep her entertained when she's at home. Of course, I'm usually not actively hostile like most of the rest of the house, but that's another tale, and not actually that good of an excuse.
So one of the New Years' resolutions is to find time for her. At least 10 minutes each day. And while she won't be getting a computer for Christmas, she might be getting that pony, more or less.

Personally, I feel sorry for the political satirists.

And so the festivity wears off, the parades wandered once again into the distance to wherever it is parades go. Y'know, I was in a parade once, and still can't remember where that is.
Anyway. Yes. The day was long, but wondrous, an exhaustive spectacle of mindless adoration. You heard the chants as they went by, each screaming the name of the holiday with glee.
But, as with all good things, it ends, not with a bang but with a whimper. At least, that's what she tells me.

Happy Hugh Day, folkses.

I am buzzing at a very low frequency.
You know that sort of buzz you get on when you're actually motivated to bother doing something with your life, when you're ready to dispense with the procrastination for a little while and do some work? Something like that.
Only, of course, I'm not working. I'm sitting in front of a monitor, typing words of little consequence in an effort to get myself back in the swing of writing on a daily basis. Not necessarily to you, but at all.
I guess doing my taxes counts as this buzz being not-a-waste.