Halo 3: saying goodbye to my brain cells

Halo 3 is out. I can feel my brain cells leaving my brain as we speak.

Now, people may think I'm talking about how video games are a waste of time, blah blah blah. No. I'm talking about how I just may be that small percentage of players that video game boxes warn everyone about.

What am I talking about? I've been playing Halo for about an hour and I'm nauseous. Apparently, video games have been known to cause seizures in a "small percentage" of players. Since the bf is not at home right now (which is why I actually was able to get my hands on the 360 tonight), I didn't think it'd be a great idea to come home to me on the ground with controller in hand, having a seizure and foaming at the mouth. So, as loathe as I was to turn off the game -- I was in the middle of a frustrating campaign, maybe it was a good idea to step away -- I walked away and have hopped onto my computer with a weird headache, my eyes feeling sore and a nauseous stomach.

I can't shake off this weird feeling and while staring at a computer screen probably isn't helping, I'm wondering if maybe I'm just not built for video games or if it's my shitty tv that's to blame for this headache of mine. Since I'm a nerd and must google everything, I came across this article on "[helping avoid] rare cases of seizures triggered by flickering lights from TV and video games."

Included in the article are tips on making video game playing more comfortable and reduce stress on the player. While most were valid ("sit at least 2 feet away from the screen" or "reduce the screen's brightness"), I was a little amused at this suggestion:

Cover one eye while playing and regularly change which eye is covered.

Hrm. Are they trying to suggest I wear an eyepatch while playing? Like this guy?



Or, am I supposed to play with a perpetual wink, switching eyes when tired?

Augh. Whatever. I'm sooo going back to play once Reaper is over. And then when I'm finished playing, I'm going to lay down and rest right after.

Besides, it's sexy to watch girls play video games with one eye closed. Right?

Rawr.

New Post

I was going to write up a new post, but I'm tired. It's all of 11:35 p.m. and I am contemplating going to the safety of my bed.* I shall try and write up something tomorrow. I'm trying to give myself a two-post per week deadline.

In other news, the side writing gig is giving me a raise in November. Suh-weeeeet!

Happenings: Sondre + Air show on Wednesday. Exciting..








*I miss my social life.

New Hangouts

I am working. Hard. While I sit and copyedit, I am at my new neighborhood bar, 540 Club. As a writer/editor, you can't help but love a place with free wi-fi and alcohol.

As a side note: I am currently on my second Hoegaarden. I friggin' love this place.

I've been on the lookout for new hangouts and this is as good as any. With the swell of bar-goers at Trad'r Sam's, I am forced to go elsewhere but have been pleased with results.

Where else can I go that the bartender pauses the music ("Humpty Dance") to have an informal poll: Is a pissing contest about distance or endurance?

Answer -- according to bar-goers -- is distance.

I've been recently having a love/hate relationship with San Francisco, having problems with the pretentiousness of us and yet loving how we are low-key, all at the same time. It's only when I am at local dives that I question how I will ever be able to leave (graduate school? new job?) and the prospect of leaving seems impossible.

The hatred of San Francisco, however, is actually stemming from a few different places. Not to point fingers (cough*Marina*cough) but I was recently at a bar, sitting at a stool. At my own admittance, the bar was quite full and I was lucky enough to snag a seat. That was when another patron decided that I wasn't using enough of the stool and decided to share it with me.

Yes. He sat on the back portion of my stool while I sat at the bar. What. the. fuck.

Despite hip negotiations wherein I tried to reclaim my seat, once he realized that I wanted (all of) my seat back, he had the audacity to sigh (loudly) and act indignant at losing the back half of my stool.

Don't even make me mention the asshole who ran through a red light in Union Square and almost hit my friend's daughter (in baby carriage). Upon confrontation with him -- where "Why don't you watch where you're going?" was yelled into his open window -- he flipped off me, my friend, and my friend's daughter. Classy.

The asshole-ishness has seemed to transformed onto the web as well, typifying San Franciscans as self-righteous commenters. Writing for a website has become daunting: the SF commenters are brutal. Myself and others from SF have been writing articles about the SF scene and are constantly bombarded with rude messages: "Are you even FROM San Francisco?" to "Haven't you ever heard of _______? Obviously you haven't." Snide jabs to make you question why you love this city and its inhabitants so much.

No city is perfect, but I hate to have such a negative stigma creep in. This is one of the few weekends where I've been able to realize a more purified San Francisco experience (bridge and tunnel dwellers have been limited as the bridge and tunnel have been temporarily put out of commission) and it hasn't been bad. Is the horrific attitude I'm coming across from our neighboring cities? As a native east bay'er, I'm loathe to think so.

Right now, I'm trying to go out as much as I can this weekend so I can experience this city at its least crowded, in its full glory and at its best. I don't want to believe in a city where we've been typified by our "smug" and our ability to enjoy our own farts (ref: South Park) but we've somehow earned it. I'm embarrassed. This isn't us. Yet, I can't help but smirk as an outsider and an insider. Shit. What are we going to do with ourselves?

*I've felt the purpose and reason for this post ebb and wane. Four hoegaardens in. Let's just say I'm distracted. I'm sure I'll be flamed through messaging by tomorrow. cheers.