Announcement!

Because I'm a Finicky little bugger, I'm going to move my shits over to wordpress. I actually had one over at wordpress a while back but just never used it.

They have so many more themes to offer!

mchoun.wordpress.com

Pokemon Battle Pt. 1

Today was an especially dark and dreary day in Pallet town. Nurse Fiona is stuck in the Pokemon Center left with nothing to do. Of course she has nothing to do because Pallet town has become a very boring place once Pokemon Trainer Merv left.

"I hope he goes out there and catches them all. He was all about that." said Nurse Fiona as she sits at the counter playing with her Chansey.

She's about to doze off when suddenly she hears the sound of the entrance doors sliding open. In a very autonomous response she beings to ask 'How may I...' until she realizes who it is.

Pokemon Trainer Merv takes a cool step into the Pokemon Center. He closes his eyes and takes in the atmosphere taken aback by all the nostalgia. The sound of 8-bit music fills his ears as he opens his eyes and smiles at Nurse Fiona.

Nervously, Nurse Fiona finishes her greeting "H-How may I help you?".

"I'm just here to use the PC," Pokemon Trainer Merv responds in a very non chalant manner.

As he cooly walks over to the PC, Nurse Fiona takes notice to the shiny badges that Trainer Merv has proudly displayed on his vest and his belt which was neatly lined with six pokeballs.

"Wow, six out of the eight gym badges. He must be really good." Nurse Fiona thought to herself.

As Trainer Merv finishes up with some pokemon transfers, he begins to cooly walk back toward the entrance to leave.

Nurse Fiona begins to autonomously beings to say goodbye, "Thank you! Come back..." before she is interrupted by another Pokemon Trainer coming in as Trainer Merv is leaving.

Trainer Merv stops dead in his tracks and is as equally stunned by the new Trainer who has just walked in. This Trainer walks just as cooly as Trainer Merv over to the Pokemon Center counter and places his pokeballs into the healing tray.

"I see you've been busy Merv. It's nice to see you again," says the trainer.

Trainer Merv responds, "I see you have been too, BUG CATCHER KYLE!!"

Announcer: "A strange twist has just occurred!!! Just as Pokemon Trainer Merv is leaving his home town Pokemon Center, Bug Catcher Kyle enters!!! Who is this Mysterious trainer?? How does he know Pokemon Trainer Merv?? Answers will come and Pokemon Battles will happen!!!! NEXT WEEK!!!

Drunken Meditation Doesn't Work.

So apparently my current thing is to write a totally random blog post when I'm drunk. Actually, it's random drunken post when I'm angry and drunk. But I try not to show my anger because that would just make reading this lame. My emotions aren't for everyone else to know.

But anyways.

I use to meditate a lot back in freshman year. Freshman year was also a tough time for me and meditation help me controll a lot of things. So the combination of angry drunkenness and meditation don't mix.

I believe that when people think of meditation they think of spiritual enlightenment and general lameness when someone other than a monk is doing it. To me, meditation is a moment of calm. A moment of reflection. A moment when I don't have to think about everything else that is going on in my life. It's actually a really wonderful feeling. It's a state of total relaxation with your mind totally open. It feels like my senses are heightened but the outside world is completely dull. A strange balance between total awareness with a sense of disconnection.

The combination of intoxication and meditation don't mix though.

That whole feeling of worldless-ness and combined with my lack of balance. Everything just combines and tears each other apart. The moment of relaxation and happiness is ripped apart by the ridiculous-ness of alcohol. You realize all your greatest weakness and all of your greatest faults. The moment of solitude and reflection becomes a moment of realization and anger.

You're supposed to learn from your mistakes. Your mistakes don't always affect outwardly and toward your surroundings. I haven't learned from my mistakes yet. Maybe it'll all hit me after all my mistakes are done. I'll probably have a huge moment of "Oh shit" ness and I'll realize everything.

Now that I think about it. That moment will probably come with my hang over.

I am another drunken post.

It's been a long time since I last posted anything that is worth while. I played with the idea of a "Links of the week" post every week because I'm so lazy and I think I might do that. I've been too busy to consider anything though.

So tonight, in my drunken stupor, I've decided to define Life. At least what I consider life. I considered certain aspects of life but maybe that's not right. Maybe it should be categorized as stages.

The young stage. The fucking rebel stage. The "I think I found what I really am" in high school stage. The "Oh shit, this is what I really am" in college stage. The "Lets party all the time cause It's fucking cool" stage. Then maybe the stage where everyone else parties while you sit back and be anti social stage.

I think I'm at that last stage.

But from that last stage comes random blog post and random stuff at a totally random time.

And from that comes the realization that everyone is one way or another put into a cookie cutter sheet and comes out the exact same way.

People try so hard to distinguish themselves from other people but in reality EVERYONE IS EXACTLY THE SAME.

Maybe I'm just saying that cause I'm in the bitter anti social stage. Then again I'm only in this bitter anti social stage because I'm jealous of everyone else and how I'm not getting anywhere.


Oh wait. That's depression.


Of course with my super POSI attitude that I apparently have allll the time, this doesn't affect me. I have no depression because that's the way life is. This happen for a reason and this is why it's happening to me. Any attempts that happen end in failure but those failures mean nothing. Because that's the way things are supposed to happen.

Things will fall into place for me and I won't have to worry about anything. Although this may seem like a large amount of sarcasm, this is actually what I believe in. Surprisingly I could be pushed around by people and stepped all over but I think that things will right themselves and I'll be just fine.

Life isn't worth anything without emotional and physcial struggle.

And now my rant comes to an end. I realized what I have just done, which involved writing about ridiculous things that doesn't matter to anyone else except me. I'll read back on this and think that I shouldn't have written this but I'll keep it because it's part of my life. This snapshot of my life will be open for anyone on the massive amounts of tubes called the internet can see instead of my little black notebook that no one has seen.

I am Slowing Down.

I don't know if I've ever talked about it on this blog but I've always enjoyed and promoted the idea of slowing down your life and taking it all in. I try to do this myself but it's something hard to do especially with the way American culture is.

This video is a talk by journalist Carl Honore who believes that the speed that we crave in our culture is shortening our lives. Eating slower would be healthier, working slower would produce better work, having sex slower would provide a better orgasm. This talk is definitely something worth watching.



[via ted.com]

I am updating after a long time

It's been a long while since I've posted anything. I've come across a bunch of articles that I wanted to talk about but just never got around to writing anything about it. Mostly because I've been busy lately but that really is just an excuse for my laziness. Maybe I'll start a "links of the week" post.

Anyways, what sparked my motivation to finally write a post was this article from NYTimes.

Almost everyone has heard the news of the NYC Critical Mass violence. Almost everyone have been a part of or seen bicycle violence. It's ridiculous but even I have had my fair share of tussles with drivers in Philadelphia. I actually hate all of the drivers in Philadelphia, myself included. But as the article pointed out, drivers are only learning to cope with the increase in bikers. It's something new and they don't know how to handle themselves. The same could also be said about the bikers. Many of them are inexperienced when it comes to city biking.

Hopefully bikers and motorist will be able to co-exist soon. I'm sick almost getting hit.

I am the new Facebook.

Kelly Sutton over at Hackcollege wrote an interesting article about the new changes that Facebook have planned. What's even better is you could check it out yourself and do a little test run.

www.new.facebook.com

I personally think that facebook should stick with what they have now. The new changes almost makes things very cluttered. For profile pages, wall post and the mini feed have decided form into one super mega beast of information... and that super mega beast is way too crowded.

One thing that did tickle my "oh that's cool" button was the tabs on top of the profile page. It makes it a lot nice instead of having the stuff on the side or all up in your profile page.

To get the full effect of the changes, click on your name on the top left or check out someone else profile page. Also, keep in mind that after visiting the above url your default will be the new layout. To change back to it there's a link that says "back to old layout" in the upper right hand corner.

If you guys notice anything else interesting or just want to leave how you feel about it. Leave a comment!

I am in love with Google

It's been almost two weeks since my last post and I think I'm due for another. I've actually had a couple things I wanted to write about but no time really to write about them. This one website has probably been sitting in my tab bar for about two weeks because I'm afraid that if I close it, I'll lose it forever. Which, really, wouldn't be that big of a deal.

I love Google. You have your Mac fanboys, your Windows fanboys, and your weird Linux cultist, but I love my Google. I started using Gmail back when it was still invite only. I have had my account since June 2004 which is over four years, 637 mbs of space, and over 13,975 emails. I love it.

But what really attracts me about the vast amounts of Google applications is the simplicity of it all and also the attention that Google gives to the work that they do. For example, they recently changed their homepage to allow quicker access to their Privacy page. They didn't just stick the link on the homepage though, they considered the amount of words actually on the homepage. It's a minor thing, but that attention to small detail is what's great about Google.

"This mystery and its revelation was really interesting because I thought about the homepage, and how to keep it simple, all the time. Yet I hadn't thought to look at it through this very simple lens: just count the words. The fewer, the better. Ever since that night, this has been our discipline, and everyone who works on the homepage and its design knows the current number: 28."

[via Official Google Blog]

I am the Chinese Armed Police

What do Segways and Asian men with guns have to do with keeping the Chinese Olympic games safe?

Clearly, everything.




I have to admit, as dorky as this looks, this is frickin' awesome. Why don't we have the Philadelphia Police Force out and about on these things? Better yet, Drexel campus security!

I especially like the guy in the back with the camouflaged rifle with a scope and knife bayonet. It must be from his personal collection.

[via Geekologie via BBC News]

I am a couple of cups sitting on a coffee table.

This post is only to point out the fact that I like to think in really odd ways and personify strange things. I just like to personify. For example, "The laptop squeals in anguish as his owner, Mervin Choun, types out an agonizing blog post about cups on his coffee table."

Like the cups that are sitting in front of me right now. Left out by their respective owners who actually grabbed them in the first place. Left out to be forgotten and left out to be left there for a long time. A combination of mugs, free plastic drexel cups, fancy glass cups, and a lonely Poland Springs water bottle. All standing up right but one knocked over.

Who do these cups belong to? All six of them don't know. Except for one. The writer of this post. The one with the plastic drexel cup. Claimed by him for all to know. That cup is fucking mine.

But what about the others? Oh wait, another one just popped up. Hidden by the screen of this laptop is another mug. Strangely enough, one of the mugs that the writer of this post brought to this house and is usually reserved for him. What's it doing out here? Good question.

All of them almost empty except for the last drops that the last user had left. The last drops that we like to call "backwash". We all know that the last bits of a bottle or a cup are really the saliva of the previous user (or users). All of that backwash is the only evidence of the previous owners.This is a sad and lonely story. A sad and lonely story that could only be reserved for these type of cups. The futures of these cups are unpredictable and probably wild. They could be used once or they could be use various times. They could be used by the same person or by multiple people confusing that cup as their own. They could be filled with the pureness of Philadelphia tap water or possibly by the vile and evil liquid of liquor or beer. They could end up being left there for days without being washed or being washed immediately after use, ready for another rotation of lips coming to their lips.

Of course, that's what these cups live for. The lip to lip action! No matter what they were originally crafted for, these cups need the be drank from. Without it, they are no long cups but merely containers of liquid. Simple tupperwear without a lid! And without a doubt, these cups do not want to be pushed down to the lowely class of tupperwear. Although they may be kings of leftovers, they are merely paupers to the fine china.

As said before, the future of these warriors of liquid may be uncertain. But one thing is certain to this drunken writer. They all will end up getting washed, and they will all ended up in the exact same spot.

I am a little taste.

You took a little sip didn't you?  You popped and now you can't stop.  Greed, Lust, Gluttony.  You dipped your finger into the peanut butter jar, spread it over the celery, and fucking chomped on it.  Satisfying?  Of course.  But who knows where that finger's been.  In fact, who knows where that celery has been.

It feels familiar doesn't it?  Rain that is.  That smell is is usually distinctive but it never is for me.  It reminds me of fish.  Or the times when I was little and I didn't care about getting wet.  I'd still stay outside until it started to lighting.  Puddles weren't a nusiance but an awesome source of entertainment.

Fun.  What happened to it?  It use to walk up to me and we use to spend hours just exploring and satisfying our curiousities.  Now?  I have to find it cause it's usually hiding.  Then it's a short time and I'm already missing it.

I am tired of all of this

I'll do it myself.

Real post coming tomorrow.

I am cursed with a small tongue.

Really, I am cursed with a small tongue. I mean, it's really not that big of a deal but it makes it tough to eat soup sometimes. Lollipops take forever to get to the center to. It's kind of hard to whistle. Living a life with a small tongue is tough.

After spending exactly two minutes brushing my teeth in the morning with my Sonicare elite toothbrush, I spend exactly two minutes more looking at my tongue in the mirror.

Look at this guy!

[via BoingBoing]

I am trying to win a new black notebook

Many of you people that actually know me know that I carry around a black notebook. Although it's no where near being full, it'd be nice to have one lined up to be filled with my random stuff.

Sooooo, blackcover.net is giving away a notebook and I'm trying to win it. Check out the website! They have some awesome stuff on there.

I am an underwear model

Wearing Gap underwear makes me feel sexy.

Even when I'm mowing my lawn.

I am a character without a name -- Sound

"Don't worry! Everything will be fine"

That was the last thing he said to me when he left. Those words were the last words I heard him say. Those are the last sounds I'll ever hear him make.

When he said those words though, I didn't think anything of it. He's always been a positive guy, always encouraging and never a downer. I just wish that he would have realized that everything wouldn't be ok. I just wish I could have said "I love you!" for one last time.

Now I'm stuck here in this shelter with the soft rustling sounds of other women moving about, doing their work, and children playing. If only they could hear what's going on outside. If only they could hear the monotonous and mind numbing moans of what's going on outside.

I wish I could hear for one last time, "Don't worry! Everything will be fine."



[image from Alexey Titarenko Photography]

I am a break from the normal programming

"I give up too easy"

A group of words that could mean "I give up to easily."

But is that what it really means? It is just a group of words with a definition except order.


I actually don't know where this post is going. Just take out the punctuation and figure it out for yourself.

I am a character without a name -- Smells

The character of this story is not what you would consider as a normal person. Actually, if you would meet this character in real life, you would probably be scared and confused. Your mind would probably go crazy from the sheer unrealistic-ness of his existence.

But he doesn't know this.

The first thing that the character of this story realized as he regained consciousness was the smell of death. The decaying of flesh. The smell of recently burnt hair and skin. It was all a combination of new death and old death. The strange thing about this situation though is not the smell, but the fact the the character of this story was not disgusted or repulsed by it all. Actually, the character of this story was attracted to the smell. Aroused by the smell. Soaking in the pure ecstasy that the smell was bringing him. And ultimately, craving the smell.

The character of this story had to do something about this craving. Something deep inside their mind was telling them to seek action. And with that, his eyes were open.

I am a character without a name

Death. Death. Death.

That's all he could smell when became conscious.

Blood. Blood. Blood.

That's all he could see when he opened his eyes.

Pain. Pain. Pain.

That's all he could feel when his adrenaline stopped flowing.

Scream. Scream. Scream.

That's all he could hear when his head stopped pounding.

"What is this place?" was all that he could think.

I am a real fictitious person

There's a new micro blogging personality on Twitter.

Her name....

Liz Kantner in real life.