Do Want - October edition

I don't care if you've been left and scorned by every single woman you've ever had the misfortune of attempting a romantic endeavor with. I don't care if you've seen the true face of the evil that mankind is capable of committing day in and day out as a forensic scientist working some of the grisliest murders this country has bared witness to. I don't care if you're Charles-fucking-Manson.

Just look at those things and try your best not to go "awwwww!!!111!11!!!one!!1!1!!!eleven!!!!"

Lookit widdle Kwatos! He's got his own miniature scowl and everything! All the God of War sackboys need are their own sacrificial virgins complete with two-toned boobies and unbelievably generous disposition to ravage, and you're set.

Yes, they keep them as pets, too

Our puppy Ein has now been fast asleep for the past hour and a half, and after a few minutes of debating, I ultimately decided to let 'im sleep. It's been a long day for all of us, as the entire day was spent first going an hour out of town, picking up the puppy, getting all of the necessary supplies (for the time being), and training the little scamp not to shit all around my apartment, but it was all worth it. At the end of the day, Zoe and I are proud owners of a two-and-a-half-month-old Corgi pup.

We decided against the name "Chewie" for aforementioned reasons, and after running through numerous names including Tas, Owen, and Carbunkle (see if you can spot the fantasy/Star Wars/loser references), we settled on naming our pup after the reason we so wanted a corgi in the first place: Ein, the lovable Welsh Pembroke Corgi from "Cowboy Bebop". If you're blatantly obvious, no one can call you out for being unoriginal.

Ein has a peculiar fascination with feet. When I tap the back of my heel against my sandal, he comes running full speed, sometimes slipping against the polished sheen of my pseudo-wood flooring. Likewise, when Zoe wears her panda slippers, Ein figures it's a good idea to chase her feet down and assert his dominance as the cutest furry creature in the household. Next to Sawyer, of course, who's been sitting in his cage the whole time wondering what the fuss is about.

Although it's my first time raising anything that requires to be let outside of the confines of a cage, I know Zoe and I will be good owners to this adventurous little creature that has already brought so many death-by-cuteness moments upon us in the span of a day.

Pictures, of course:

Pingyao

So, I'm back home from a three-day jaunt around the Shanxi province, specifically in Pingyao. Aside from the horrendous traffic getting out of and into Beijing, the trip was a blast. Pingyao is a Chinese 古城 or "Ancient City." Unlike modern-day Beijing but like former Beijing, Pingyao is surrounded on all sides by city walls, although the likelihood of a modern-day siege is doubtful.

What was interesting to me wasn't just the culture surrounding the area, but a more expanded idea (on a personal scale) of just how big China is, and how diverse the regions and its people are from one another. And despite all the differences, how similar, at the end of the day, the Chinese people really are. Our tram driver had difficulty saying a complete sentence without adding a "fuck your mother" in between or at the end of the sentence. I can only imagine how he'd respond if you asked him what he thought of the weather: "The weather's good, and your mother's a fucking cunt. How about you?" This is common lingo amongst all drivers throughout China, giving all travelers that warm and fuzzy feeling that they're never too far from home.

Being in China has made me all sorts of camera-whorish, so here be pictures.

The old woman in this picture is a master paper cutter. While in her shop, she wouldn't let me take pictures of her at work, but I managed to snap this shot of her walking down an alley all bad-ass-like.

While in the magistrate's quarters, we caught this demonstration of how the law was laid out back in the day. The magistrate in the middle of the picture sat around and posed for pictures, but I spared him his dignity by opting not to take a picture of him--up close, at least.

If I want to make any kind of physical contact with her in a picture, I gotta pay 6,000 RMB extra.

And last, but definitely not least, is a picture displaying Zoe's adorable tendencies towards older men. She has a long-lasting adoration towards Clint Eastwood, but not "Dirty Harry" or "A Fistful Of Dollars" Eastwood, rather "Million Dollar Baby" Eastwood.

I'm about two years older than Zoe, so I guess that qualifies me as an older man, even though I look like I'm 16. Ah well.

Good times, and the 国庆节 holiday has just started for us. Looks like we're getting that puppy tomorrow. And in gaming-related nonsense, I beat God of War: Chains of Olympus on Zoe's PSP from start to end during the trip. I keeps it real.

Back on track with teh gamez

Outside of my apartment, I can hear the blaring of Chinese folk songs from a cheap boombox that my neighbors use to practice their ballroom dancing moves almost every morning and night of the week. Although it annoyed me at first, now I've grown accustomed to it and frankly, and much analogously on a larger scale, it's now something I'm comfortable with.

Today, I finally went to 海龙大厦 and got my PSP unlocked, which means I've become part of the problem with my bootlegged games. Zoe also picked up a black PSP, much like mine, except for the identification tag on mine that verifies my PSP unit as 100% Am'rican, proud of it.

Originally, Zoe wanted to take me to a Akihabara-styled Maid Cafe, but when we arrived, the cafe was sans Maids. Zoe surmises all of the maids knew I was coming, and ran off in a combination of fright/disgust. Chalk one more up on the board of things weaboos have ruined for me like a mother calling a son mid-masturbation.

Because I was bored of watching a middle-aged man fail consistently at making a proper roll in Wii Bowling after my continuous failed attempts to educate him on the intricacies of Wii controls in broken-ass Chinese, I took yet again another picture of Zoe in all her long-haired glory picking out accessories for her PSP. Again, excuse the low-res and lack of shame in taking pictures whenever the opportunity presents itself.

"Seriously? That cross-legged, Wii-playing chump is your boyfriend?"

Tomorrow, we head out dark and early for our sojourn to Pingyao, located in the Shanxi province. It's been a while since I've been away from the niceties of modern civilization, so here's hoping I don't mimic typing and/or mouse aiming in my sleep. Because that would be fucking weird/sad.

GFW Radio: 2006-2008

"Hello and welcome to GFW Radio podcast..."

I know I'm a little late to the farewell party, but I had neither the time nor the correct mindset to write something serious and laudatory (as opposed to my typical sardonic and cynical outlook on all things). While trying to come up with kind words for GFW Radio podcast and the unique personalities that shaped the show over its disappointingly short lifespan, I came to realize that I'm honestly no good at writing down kind words. If a distantly-related 8 year-old nephew kicks a field goal in his AYSO game, I can muster up a "way to go there, champ", but that's pretty much the extent of my congratulatory abilities.

Nevertheless, I will do my best to give credit and thanks to where credit and thanks are due. Besides, if I'm going to field a career based on my skills (or lack thereof) as a writer, I'm going to need to broaden my horizons.

GFW Radio, then, is as good a candidate for praise as anything else I've come across in my life. I started listening to GFW Radio on a whim, seeing as how it was associated with the 1up Yours podcast, a show I had just started listening to. I'll be honest; like many other first-time listeners, the "Games For Windows" tagline threw me off. It was when I heard Shawn Elliott mention Barbara Ehrenreich's Nickel And Dimed during their conversation that I knew I was listening to something special. After I came down from my cultural-elitist high, I started to appreciate the podcast for what it was; a damn fine gaming podcast that didn't abide by anyone's rules.

1up.com and EGM have always had a reputation for being tough reviewers, and the former cast of GFW was no different. Individually intelligent and collectively brilliant, the minds behind GFW Radio were skilled writers and thinkers first and foremost, and gamers a very close second, a group of enthusiasts that were always the first to actively praise forward-thinking innovation and skeptically call poor game design into question. Oftentimes, an expansive and thought-provoking discourse on integrity and creativity in not only gaming but the journalistic outlets dedicated to the development and final results of games started off deceptively simple enough, beginning with a topic already exhausted on numerous other gaming sites and publications. One podcast that stands out in my mind is the staff's discussion on Jeff Gerstmann's summarily being terminated from Gamespot for a negative Kane And Lynch: Dead Men review, wherein the staff covered not only past examples of PR and marketing strong-arming but also their ideas on journalistic integrity in general.

GFW Radio was smart podcasting, but the personalities that dictated it always had an endearing tendency to stray from their "scripts", with their tangents ranging from comic book recommendations to low-brow humor in the form of "Heroes Of The Web," a segment that will be sorely missed by numerous GFW Radio followers. Shawn Elliott was as skilled a humorist as he was a strong discussion leader when needed, and his numerous hilarious alter-egos such as Ralphie and Whiskey Nerd served to remind us time and time again that the internets really aren't as serious business as many of its denizens might consider it.

With a strong mix of intelligence and humor, GFW Radio's candidness and appreciation of fans served as the icing on the proverbial cake. Tuning into their weekly podcasts was like listening in on a conversation between good friends who had no problem ragging on each other with a brand of humor that only people with the strongest of relationships have access to. From Jeff Green's inability to cite the correct date and year in almost every introduction to Shawn Elliott mercilessly teasing Ryan Scott's love of the DC Comics series Booster Gold, the podcast was lined with a genuine and good-natured chemistry that made each episode, no matter how stale or unexciting the material, a joy to listen to. In addition, the staff at GFW never forgot about the fans, giving on-air shout-outs to listeners who sent them candies from around the world, or airing a PC game-free podcast to express their disappointment with the cancellation of the eponymous magazine and to extend heartfelt apologies to any listeners that started a subscription within the year. Although the GFW staff never made any excuses or apologies for their sometimes strong opinions on popular games, they always made sure the listeners knew where they were coming from in a mature, honest, and respectful manner.

On a personal note, GFW Radio was an inspiration of sorts. Although I do believe games have a while to go before they can be considered art in the same way literary classics are required reading before dying, the staff at GFW opened my eyes to the role gaming journalism might play in nudging game development towards that direction, as both its most heartfelt critic and skepctical proponent. The overall, unifying theme I've gathered from listening to every single episode of GFW Radio? Always demand the best out of yourself and others around you, and for fuck's sake, don't take things in life too seriously.

I'm keeping this dedication short, as I'll let the outstanding quality of the podcasts speak for themselves. Jeff, Shawn, Ryan, Robert, Anthony, and Darren and Sean, I hope you continue kick ass and take names in whatever career path you carve out for yourselves. As long as you guys continue to demand the same output of quality in your work, you will always have loyal fans like myself.

Long live the motherfuckin' Brodeo.

This week in Rock, pt. 1: Teacher Robba, new roommate, and cuterocity

What my students will most likely be doing instead of coming to class.

Today, I finally got my teaching schedule for the upcoming Fall semester, and it's... well, exactly as I expected. Interestingly enough, all my lessons are going to be taught through movies and television series, and the speaking and listening comprehension that comes with it. I was given a couple of movies (don't worry, all bootlegged) and episodes of "Friends", which I hope to use as a springboard for teaching my students the terms "whiny asshole" and "crazed neurotic bitch."

I also got to meet two of my fellow teachers that I'll teaching alongside in the English for Graduate Non-English Majors, both of them pretty cool. One of them's a Black dude from Manhattan who used to teach in inner cities. While rifling through the movies, he said "let's see which one of these movies has brothers in it... Shawshank Redemption, yeah, that's got one brother... lesse, what else?" to which the English program coordinator Patricia understandably responded, "...what?" The other dude is quite a character, a Canadian dude from Victoria. Imagine a hippified, cynical Dennis Quaid and you've got a pretty accurate picture of him. He hates reality tv and has "Raining Blood" by Slayer for a ringtone, so I imagine I'll get along with him.

As for other news, I have a new roommate. I told those fucks down at the league office that I didn't want a roommate, and yet, here I am again finding myself having to share my room, my space, and my freedom with yet again someone who possesses the emotional maturity of a hamster. Then again, in all fairness, the new roommate is, in fact, a hamster, so I guess it's excusable.

Ladies and gentlemen, meet Sawyer.


Zoe's mom hates rodents of all shapes and forms (ie. cuddly and widdle), so her pet hamster is staying with me from now on. Originally, Zoe had another female hamster by the name of Kate (named in reference to Kate and Sawyer from Lost, a series Zoe caught up with in a record time of like a week), but Kate was given away 'cuz there was too much spawning taking place. So now, I have an adorable little hamster that brightens my day by this much more. Granted, unlike my last roommate, Sawyer doesn't do my laundry and hang up my clothes without asking me, but then again, on the bright side, he doesn't do my laundry and hang up my clothes without asking me.

While on the topic of the wonderful world of pets, we went down to the Tongzhou area to meet with Zoe's friend and browse the largest dog market in all of Northern China (according to the people at the dog market who have never strayed beyond the borders of the municipality). I was this close to buying a two month-old male Welsh Pembroke Corgi pup, a beautiful and well-behaved tan-colored creature that Zoe had a lot of difficulty putting down.

The problem is, with the break coming up, I'm not going to have enough time to take care of the little critter for at least a week, and I don't want to start off as a dick owner who's never there. I ain't down with that Michael Vick shit, son. After the holiday, we're going back there to rescue hopefully the same pup from the cloud of dust and Honghe cigarettes. I just hope the dog doesn't fucking eat the hamster.

Here's a pic of Zoe after holding the dog for like twenty minutes straight. Excuse the low resolution, as I snapped this photo on my now-shitty Motorola V3:


As for potential dog names, I decided to stick with my pre-adolescent idea of naming my future dog after a Star Wars character. So far, my list of potential names is as follows:

1) Chewie
2) Wicket

Actually, that's it. Any other names I come up with would be bordering on either obscurity or Star Wars-themed for the sake of Star Wars-themed. Zoe's not particularly impressed with "Chewie", as it sounds too much like 蚯蚓, or "qiu1 yin3" (Chinese for 'earthworm'). She thinks "Wicket" sounds a little better, but then added it might be difficult for a non-English speaker to discern between the word "wicked" and the name of a feisty Ewok that bailed the Rebel Alliance out of trouble like twice.

Oh well. Usually a couple concedes to getting a dog together after a patch of disagreements on raising a child, so I'm thinking of this as a step in the right direction. Too bad kids are fucking vile creatures that aren't nearly as self-sufficient as a Welsh Pembroke Corgi.

Dammit. I should've bought that dog today. Guess you could say I really "screwed the pooch" on this one. And I'm done. Off to sleep for me.

Over here, we call Chinese food "food"

Once again, not really.

The title of this entry comes from a similarly titled blog I had on Xanga (remember that shit?) wherein I bitched and moaned about a place I called home and was living in of my own volition.

Try as hard as I did to avoid such an outcome, my blog inevitably became a jumble of cliched cultural epiphanies that congregated into a linear mess of "self-discovery" and all the nonsense that comes with such a heavy-handed unifying theme. In other words, my blog devolved into a statistic, the requisite "foreigner teaching English in China" blog wherein the same pictures of the Great Wall, Forbidden City, and toothless Chinese man selling street food served as visual reference for the exploits of "meeting new interesting people!!!!11" and "learning the language (OMG SO HARD)." Cookie cutter shit, although it's understandable.

Fast forward about a year or so later after said blog, there's no traces of mystique or cultural preponderance because the mystique is long gone. Beijing has become a place that, like LA, or maybe even Orange County, is simply a place for someone to live. And for me, that's a good thing. Viewing one's surroundings through rose-tinted glasses can only get you so far; after that, you have to face the reality of your situation. For me, the reality of the situation is that I'm now 25, no longer a college graduate, and a few years behind on my projected career path. No self-discovery, none of that actualization of the self bullshit here. Just hardcore career-planning and the like.

In gaming-related nonsense, I found a forum on The Beijinger's website. It appears a few of the forum posters are into games, with even a minuature, compacted console flame war to boot.

In non-gaming related nonsense, how fucking antisocial and scared of making new acquaintances are the people on my floor? I get the whole "immersing yourself in a strange land" thing. It's very romantic. Now get over yourselves.

Ah yes, one more thing. Pictures of my apartment:

The bedroom, where the magic happens. By magic, I mean laggy "WoW."

Another view of the bedroom. Note the unmade bed and the trash surreptitiously stuffed to the side of the desk.

The kitchen. As you might've already guessed, the least-visited area of the apartment by a long run.

A view of the family room. Probably the cleanest it'll ever be.

A view from the balcony connected to my room. I live on campus grounds, so it's nice and quiet at night. Although I do somewhat miss the ambient white noise creeping in like my old apartment in Dawang Lu, nothing beats peaceful silence.

Another view from the balcony. Better view of the city, or rather, the Wudaokou area. I can see the girlfriend's office building from here. Makes me feel like Norman Bates. Except the whole, y'know.

The bathroom. Funny thing about Chinese apartments is the lack of an actual shower, which means the entire ground gets soaking wet. Doesn't mean I won't sing, though.

So yeah, the return to China continues on. Stay tuned for posts detailing why I absolutely fucking loathe the Chinese language and the cultural impact of the Backstreet Boys on Chinese youth.